The Third Order
by Effiron
Summary: Silas' recovery after his encounter with Sion, and the journey into the tomb of Ludo Kresh begins. DSM Exile
1. First Knight of the Third Order

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em; I just enjoy messing with their reality. Thank you Obsidian and Lucasarts for creating them.

Note: This is my first submission to this site. By now, returning readers have probably figured out that I make random changes/edits to old chapters. There's no method to my madness, but I'll do my best to inform you all when, where, and if a new scene pops up. Reviews are welcome, and I'm open to all criticism. Just be aware HK-47 owes me a favor...

Chapter 1: First Knight of the Third Order

_The sooner we leave this miserable pit, the better_, thought Silas Carver as he wove through Nar Shaddaa's Refugee Sector. Following close behind him were two of his shipmates, Kreia, an aging outcast Jedi who had recently taken on the role of his mentor, and Atton Rand, a dark-haired pilot that Silas had thus far sprung from a force cage on two separate occasions. Both of them joined him soon after he woke up shipwrecked in a recently abandoned mining facility full of homicidal droids. Kreia and Atton didn't exactly get along so well (Kreia always referred to Atton as "fool," and Atton always responded with "old hag" or "witch."), but they tolerated the other's presence more of less as a favor for Silas. But, Silas could sense there was something…different…about Atton; for a non-Jedi, his thoughts were well hidden, and there was a…a darkness, a hatred…buried deep within him. It seemed to grow when he was around Kreia, making it easier for Silas to sense. From the moment he first detected Atton's darkness, Silas came to view him as a puzzle, a puzzle he was going to enjoy solving.

The lost souls of the Refugee Sector hailed Silas as a hero and savior for solving their troubles with the local Exchange boss and the Serrocco gang, at least until they saw him in person. Face tattooed with symbols of the Sith and dressed in the flowing black robes of a Dark Jedi Master, the newly self-anointed Darth Malvolis instilled only fear and respect in those he passed. Only Hussef, the apparent leader of the refugees, dared to look him in his yellow-stained eyes, let alone talk to him.

"Thank you for your help, stranger," the old man said. "As promised, here's the lightsaber." Hussef handed Silas the double-bladed saber. Carver scrutinized the weapon in his hand. "I can assure you it works."

Carver thumbed the saber, and a pair of red beams lanced out. _Interesting._

"How was it that you came by this blade?" asked Kreia with restrained surprise.

"Bought it from a merchant that came through here a few years ago," Hussef answered. "Didn't think to ask about how he got it, though."

"Probably picked it off a corpse," replied Atton, "or got it from someone who did. With all the Jedi gone, lightsabers are starting to show up in markets all over the galaxy."

"Its origins are not important," stated Silas, clipping the blade to his belt, "and it is time for us to leave."

"I hope you won't have to use it, stranger," said Hussef.

"Do not worry; I will not be needing it," Carver said with dark grin and he turned to leave. In truth, he didn't need the saber; he already had two of his own. But the only ones who knew that were the people he traveled with.

* * *

During his trip to Dantooine, Silas learned the importance of discretion when it came to owning a lightsaber. Shortly after completing his blade, he had Bao-Dur, their Iridonian tech, build a cradle for it that would fit around his forearm. Silas was well pleased when the tech was finished; the cradle allowed him to hide the saber under his robe (which he stole from Atris after she refused to return his old double blade) and made him appear unarmed. Despite the black robe, the lack of a visible lightsaber made people more willing to answer him when he spoke. The cradle also had a second function: activating two pressure switches between his fingers fired a small catapult that shot the saber into his waiting hand. Any idiot dumb enough to point a blaster at him wouldn't live long enough to realize he was about to die. Silas even managed to surprise Jedi Master Vrook. During their duel, Silas kept his saber hidden and relied on his Force abilities to attack Vrook and keep him at a distance; the old Jedi turned out to be surprisingly resilient against his lightning strikes. Once Vrook was confident Carver was worn out from his attacks, he lunged forward ready to swing his saber down on his opponent. The charge was abruptly stopped when Vrook felt the burn of a red lightsaber blade through his chest. With the death of the Jedi Master, Silas earned a second saber and the right to bestow upon himself the title of Darth Malvolis. The new saber soon matched its twin in color and purpose; immediately after, Malvolis requisitioned a cradle built for it as well.

* * *

Now that he was on Nar Shaddaa, Malvolis' situation was slightly different. He was here to terminate the Exchange Syndicate's bounty on his head or terminate the one who put the bounty on his head. Either way, he needed to attract attention, and not even that half-blind Sullustian mechanic could miss the oversized hilt dangling from his belt. Perfect. As they headed out of the slums, a gentle Force breeze carrying anxiety and doubt made the hair on the back of Silas' neck stand up; they were being followed.

* * *

Two Twi'leks nervously watched as the three offworlders left Hussef's office. The face of one of the trio looked familiar, and if they were right, the other two were in danger. They decided to go after them and find some way to warn the endangered ones.

"Are you sure that's him?" asked the first Twi'lek.

"I'm positive," replied the second. "He's changed his appearance, but I'd still recognize him in a second."

"Do you think he recognized us?"

"No, I don't think so. But I do think we need to warn the others about their friend."

"Are you sure? You see that other guy? Does he _look_ like he needs to be warned?"

"He is dangerous," insisted the second Twi'lek. "He could kill both of them. We have to say something."

"I don't know if that's such a good id…hey come back!"

* * *

"Hey you!" came a voice from behind them.

_Not the smartest way to get my attention_, though Silas, turning back to see two Twi'leks running up to him. He gave them a cold stare and gently probed their minds, testing their mental defenses. "What do you want?"

"We have information for you," said one of them. "Something we think you should know."

Silas folded his arms and smiled. "Really?"

"Yes," the alien continued. "It is important."

"And pricey, I'll bet," muttered Atton.

"Possibly," Silas replied. "About what?" he yelled at the Twi'leks, "The Exchange?"

"Yeah, the Exchange," said the second Twi'lek. "We can give you some inside information. But it's for your ears only."

Atton scoffed. "Nothing suspicious about that is there?"

Silas nodded in agreement. "Still, I am curious as to why they are going through so much trouble."

"I suggest you keep your meeting brief," said Kreia, "We have probably spent too much time here."

Silas gave his companions a backwards glance. "Wait for me outside." He then started towards the two aliens. "You two are either very bold or very foolish to assume that I have time to spare for a couple of vagrants," he told them.

"I can assure you this will be worth your time, sir," the second Twi'lek replied.

"Not only that," added the other alien, "but our information is also worth 25 credits."

Silas chuckled at the remark. "25 credits. How did I know you would work credits into this?"

The second Twi'lek turned to his friend and whispered. "You didn't say anything about asking him for credits."

"Why not?" asked the first. "It's a fair trade."

"Enough of this," Silas interrupted. The two aliens turned back towards the man. "You two know nothing of the Exchange. If this is some sort of trap, you will be alive just long enough to regret your mistake."

"This is no trap, I assure you!" pleaded the second. "It's true, we don't have Exchange information, but we do have information about you male companion."

"Who? Atton?" asked Silas.

"If that is the name he goes by now, then yes; him," answered the second.

Carver's eyes narrowed. "What about him?"

"Not so fast," interjected the first. "First, you give us our credits."

"I have a better idea," said Carver, darkly. "How about I keep my credits and simply take the information by force." Before the aliens could react, Malvolis' hands shot out and held their heads in vice grips. Concentrating, he searched the Twi'leks' minds for whatever knowledge they possessed. After a few moments, his eyes snapped open, and he smiled; he found their secret. As he continued reading their minds, however, his smile disappeared; he didn't like what he discovered. _They were right_, Malvolis thought, _this _is_ worth 25 credits. It is unfortunate they do not know how to play by the rules._ He severed his connections, slammed their heads together, and threw the unconscious bodies to the floor. "No one demands anything from Darth Malvolis," he said, turning away. _They should consider themselves lucky I did not kill them. They just put me in a foul mood._ Now that he had dealt with one irritation, he had another, potentially greater one that needed to be remedied immediately. No, not immediately; he needed to center himself first, and he couldn't do that with the noise of Nar Shaddaa echoing in his head.

* * *

"Where is Kreia?" asked Silas as he approached.

"She decided not to wait up," Atton answered, "so she left. Where to next?"

"Back to the ship," Malvolis growled as he strode past.

"What? Why? What'd those guys want?" Atton pried, trying to keep up with Silas' rapid pace.

"Credits; what else?"

"Okay. What about the Exchange?"

"They knew nothing."

"Hate to say I told you so, but…"

"Then don't!"

"Okay, okay, fine; no need to start shooting off lightning or anything."

Silas shot him a backwards glare as they approached the landing pad. The bodies of former _Red Eclipse_ slavers still littered the path back to the ship. "I hope the others cleaned out the _Hawk_ like I told them to."

"If they didn't," added Atton, "there's gonna be one hell of a smell." When the _Ebon Hawk_ came into view, Atton smiled. "Well, looks like they can follow orders after all." Near the loading ramp was a large mound of mangled bodies and limbs.

"I will need to have a little talk with Toydarian before we leave," said Carver, sending the pile of flesh over the ramp with a casual Force push.

* * *

Once onboard, Silas made a beeline to Kreia's "meditation chamber," the port crew quarters, ignoring everyone who spoke to him.

"What's with the General," asked Bao-Dur.

"I don't know," answered Atton with a shrug. "He roughed up a couple of refugees who claimed to know something about the Exchange. They didn't, and he wasn't very happy about it. Too bad; I thought our Serrocco killing spree would have kept him in a good mood for the next few days."

"Aren't you a little worried about that?"

"Well, I know I won't be volunteering to leave the ship with him for awhile."

"No, I mean the fact that enjoyed murdering all those people."

The thought had briefly crossed Atton's mind after the carnage was over, but as long as Silas was happy, he reminded himself, their lives would be easier. "Hey, the man's gotta get his jollies somehow. Besides, it was for a good cause." Yep, just like the guy who was going to have them arrested on Citadel Station, the Exchange secretary who set them up, the ungrateful Dantooine salvager who wouldn't pay for saving his life, and the Jedi who had tried to kill them. They all deserved what that got, or so Silas would keep telling him. And after Silas killed the old Jedi, Atton decided their leader had to know what he was doing.

"Irritated declaration: Meatbag!"

_Aw, Hell_, thought Atton. _The droid._ The recently repaired HK droid came marching into the room, a Mandalorian heavy pistol in one hand, a Zabrak heavy pistol in the other. Atton hated that droid, all droids in fact, but this one especially. It called everyone on the ship, except Silas, a meatbag. It pissed him off.

"Veiled threat: You will inform me of what have you done to upset the master, now." the droid demanded with a slight electronic hiss.

"I didn't do anything," countered Atton.

"Sarcasm: Of course you didn't. After all, it is in the master's nature to growl the names of crew members at various intervals."

"What?" asked Atton.

"Explanation: Before he dismissed me from the aging female meatbag's room, I recorded the utterance of your name five times. The tone that they were using suggests he will have you terminated in short order. Anticipatory: I hope he allows me to carry out your evisceration."

Caught between confusion and disgust, Atton's face started twisting. "What exactly did he say?"

"Bemused Apology: I am sorry, but I cannot reveal any information regarding missions or potential targets to those who do not have proper authorization. Cautionary: Needless to say, if I were in your meatbag shoes, I would monitor my behavior very carefully around the master. He is quite volatile at the moment. Statement: I hope to return to the master shortly. I wish to record as much data on him as possible while he is his current state for future recollection and enjoyment." The droid turned and left.

"That is one sick droid," commented Atton.

"No argument here," said Bao-Dur, "but if he's right, you may be in big trouble with the General."

"But, I didn't do anything," Atton reiterated, "I swear." He paused, considering his situation. "Look, I'm gonna make myself scarce for a while, just to be on the safe side. Do me favor, when Sy calms down, buzz me."

As Atton headed down the ramp and into the fading evening light, the Iridonian smiled and waved. "See you in a week."

* * *

Despite the fact that the sun was now peeking over the metal spires of the urban moon, Atton's fatigue was becoming increasingly difficult to shake off. _Guess it's about time for me to be getting back._ That was the problem with planet hopping: adjusting to the time change. It wasn't as if Atton had never been awake for 40 standard hours at a time, he just felt like he was pulling these long-hour days more often since he joined up with Silas. Like every major urban center, activity on Nar Shaddaa didn't cease when the sun went down, just became a little less legal. The opposite was true when the sun came back up. Even with heavy eyelids, Atton noticed a decrease in the ratio of trench coats to suits. Still, it would be dangerous to fall asleep in a cantina, so Atton decided to make his way back to the _Hawk_ and hope Silas was either asleep or too tired to drill him for the next few hours.

As he neared the ship, his gaze drifted to the cockpit windows. _Oh shit_, Atton thought. Fighting against the glare of the sun and the dark interior of the cabin, he could just make out the shape of a black-hooded figure seated in the pilot's chair. _Was he waiting for me?_ But as he continued his approach, he noticed Silas' head wasn't turning to follow him. _He's either sleeping or meditating. _Part of him, a _large_ part of him, hoped it was the former.

Before stepping fully into the ship, Atton made sure no one was around to see him. _This is stupid._ _Why am I sneaking around? I live on this ship; I'm the damn pilot! I'm not breaking in._ Nevertheless, he found himself quietly making his way to the starboard crew quarters. To his surprised relief, they were empty; Bao-Dur and Visas were gone. "Great," he mumbled, stretching. "Looks like I'll be able to get a few hours of peaceful…"

"Atton!" called a female voice

"Or not," he corrected himself. Wheeling around, he came face-to-face with the Handmaiden. If Atton had to describe the Handmaiden in one word, it would have to be gorgeous. Short white hair, deep blue eyes, exquisite figure; she had everything going for her. Atton would have spent every moment with her that he could if not for two slight problems: 1. She already had feelings for Silas. And 2…

"Atton, where have you been?"

…she pissed him off. "Out," he answered, turning back towards the bunks.

"Why did you leave the ship?"

Atton's irritation flared. Sometimes, most times, she was **irksome**. "Because I wanted to, okay? I don't need anyone's permission to do what I want to."

"You know how dangerous our mission is, Atton. It is foolish for you to take such unnecessary risks."

Atton wheeled around and locked eyes with the Handmaiden. "Hey, don't lecture me about our 'mission' alright? I met Silas before there even was a mission. I've already gotten a look at the guy we're up against. Have you ever seen a Sith Lord? I mean other than your mistress during her 'monthly mood swings'."

The Handmaiden's tone became even icier. "How _dare_ you! You will _not_ speak of Atris in such a manner. Apologize!"

Atton folded his arms and leaned against the bunk rack. "Why should I?"

She started advancing on him. "Apologize or I will break your arm in three places!"

"Handmaiden! Enough!" Atton glanced over the woman's shoulder to see Silas Carver standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and amber eyes staring both of them down.

She spun around to address the black-robed Jedi. "He has insulted my mistress. I will not allow it!"

"Your loyalty to her is admirable," Silas told her in a soothing tone, enveloping her hand between his. "I look forward to the day when you make such threats to those who insult me."

_Smooth_, thought Atton, a grin tugging at his mouth.

"However," continued Silas, his voice returning to normal, "Now is not the time for these squabbles. We have too many enemies gunning for us on this moon to start fighting amongst ourselves. Handmaiden, I expect you to show more discipline in the future. Save your rage for our enemies and our sparring matches."

Atton could see that she was a little irked at being scolded. "Very well," she replied, breaking away from Silas' gaze.

"And Atton," said Silas, locking eyes with the Scoundrel, "In the future, I expect you to show better judgment as well. I cannot have my pilot running off on a whim." Atton rolled his eyes at the comment. "I also suggest you improve that attitude of yours. I may not be around to call her off next time."

"Whatever," Atton grunted. Silas' eyes visibly narrowed. "Alright, alright. I'll play nice from now on, okay?"

"See that you do," replied Silas as he led the Handmaiden out of the room.

"Great," muttered Atton, sliding into his bunk. _Well, at least it looks like he's over whatever it was that set him off last night. I told them I didn't do anything._

* * *

"I do not understand you let him get away with saying such things," stated the Handmaiden as they entered the cargo hold. "He has no respect."

A devious smile crept across his face as Malvolis drank in the aroma of her irritation. Sensations and emotions carried through the Force were often processed by the senses of touch, smell, or taste. Each emotion had its own unique concoction of stimuli which varied only slightly between individuals. The Handmaiden's frustration reminded him of a red wine that was just beginning to sour. "There is a time and place to deal with Atton," he assured her gently. "It would be best if you did not try and provoke him in the meantime."

"He cannot be allowed to…"

"I understand your concerns, but you must trust my judgment. Atton will come around, in time. Now, continue with your training, I have to leave."

"Where are you going?"

"To meet with Kreia. Our situation has altered."

"Altered? How?"

Silas chuckled. "We may be able to accelerate our plans to find the Jedi Master hiding here. But to be sure, I must confer with Kreia."

"All right, but be careful; I do not trust her," said the Handmaiden.

Silas gave her a wide smile as he backed out of the room. "Handmaiden, I am beginning to wonder if there is anyone on this ship aside from me that you do trust."

* * *

Walking into the port crew quarters, Silas found Kreia in the exact spot he had left her in over twelve hours ago and in the same meditative trance.

"So, the fool has returned?" Kreia asked without looking up.

"Yes," Silas answered. "A little sooner than I expected though. Apparently my call was more powerful than I anticipated."

"Or perhaps he is more susceptible to persuasion than he believes," she replied.

"That is a useful possibility," said Carver, looking past Kreia for a moment. "But whatever the reason, my suspicions have been confirmed. I knew there was some other reason he has remained with us."

"Indeed. The Force binds all things, even the lives of people who would normally never think to associate."

"But how, I wonder? And why has he denied himself?"

"Those reasons are his own. Atton has chosen to walk his own path."

_Then it is time I made him walk mine_, Malvolis thought. "Kreia, I would ask for your assistance again."

Her eyes opened at his request. "For what purpose?"

"Another lesson; I was able to pull the Twi'leks' thoughts from their heads, but they were weak-minded. I need to be able to pull information from a stronger mind, one that knows how to set up more powerful mental barriers."

"And you think I possess such a technique?"

"If you cannot teach me this, then your usefulness to me has ended."

Kreia looked up at him and smiled. "Very well; sit with me and attempt to enter my mind."

Malvolis sat down facing his mentor, closed his eyes, and reached out through the Force. Sensing contact with her consciousness, he recalled his previous lesson.

"_There are two ways to perform this technique," _Kreia had told him._ "The most frequently used involves slipping through a mind's defenses without being detected, thus denying your target time to throw up barriers. This stealth technique is effective against the common individual, who is usually not trained to resist such intrusions. However, you will find it difficult to slip past the barriers of those in tune with the Force. There are known techniques that can break through a Jedi's mental defenses, but most are considered too dangerous to be practical. Thus, their teachings are revealed only to a select few; usually the most trusted and disciplined of the Consular apprentices. As with most Force techniques, distractions can prove useful; a divided attention or dropped guard weakens the overall strength of mental barriers. Also, coming in direct contact with your target allows you to better focus your efforts."_

As he slipped by Kreia's first barrier, he ran smack into her second wall and was instantly repulsed, breaking his focus.

"When you are dealing with strong minds, a gentle touch is insufficient," Kreia informed him. "Do not be afraid to use the Force to smash through their mental barriers. Remember, against a Jedi, this is a battle of wills; there is no reason for you to hold back. You may cause some discomfort to the person whose mind you are invading, but that isn't your concern. Plus, the pain can serve as a distraction, allowing you to probe deeper. Now, try again."

* * *

-5 hours later-

"Atton, wake up," said Silas, looking down at the sleeping form. "Atton? Atton! You have slept long enough. Wake up." Atton flinched, but didn't open his eyes. "Rand! Get..up..now!"

"Mmm..g'away, I'm busy right now," Atton mumbled, turning over.

_That was a bad__ mistake, Rand_, thought Carver, turning towards the door.

* * *

_Who uses magnet clips for relay connectors?_ wondered Bao-Dur as he continued re-wiring the _Hawk_'s electrical systems. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Silas marching out of the crew quarters looking more perturbed than usual. Barely a minute later, Silas returned wearing a pair of sonic nullifiers and gently tossing a small silver sphere in the air. _Note to self: check crew quarters for damage later.

* * *

_

"Last chance, Rand," stated Carver with a half-smile, "Wake up." No response. "Very well. I gave you fair warning." He raised the sonic grenade in front of him and let it fall from his hand.

* * *

The scream of the sonic grenade echoed throughout the cargo hold, followed soon by the scream of a different kind.

"Ahhh! What the..(thump)..Agh..Dammit!"

"Hm. Atton's up," said Bao-Dur. He shook his head. "One day, he's going to learn."

* * *

Atton continued massaging his new concussion as he looked up at Silas, who was removing the nullifiers. "What the hell was that for?"

"You have five minutes to get dressed and meet me in the cockpit," Carver told him, his smile gone.

"You mean you woke me up just so you could…"

"Five minutes," Carver repeated, holding his hand up for emphasis, then left.

* * *

_Is it too much for me to ask for a little respect? _thought Atton as he trudged through the ship. _Seems like I'm always catching flak from someone. The droids, the ice queen, the old hag, and now Silas; what gives? Some days I don't know why I bother sticking around. I got nothing keeping me here except that old hag's blackmail. So what if he found out? After he killed that Jedi, he doesn't have any right to judge me._ He scoffed_. Yeah, like that's ever stopped him._ Every cell in Atton's body was telling him to jump ship now and just forget the past few months, but he knew couldn't. Atton wasn't sure if it was Kreia or Silas who was keeping him from leaving, or if it was just himself. But he was sure of one thing: he was going to be here for a while.

"Close the door, Atton." Silas' voice broke Atton's train of thought. He was leaning against the back of the pilot's chair with his arms folded in front of him. Nothing about Carver's stance gave Atton a sense that the man before him was his trusted comrade.

"What?" asked Atton.

"Close the door."

"Why?"

"No external distractions," Carver said, pushing off the chair.

A knot formed in Atton's gut as he fought back the instinct to run. "You got something you want to tell me?"

With a flick of two fingers, Carver sealed and locked the cockpit door. "More like something you want to tell me."

"No, not really."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Look, if I had something to say, I would, okay? So if you don't mind," Atton said gesturing to the door.

"Remember those two Twi'leks from the Refugee Sector?"

"The ones that tried to hit you up for credits?"

Carver nodded. "As it turned out they did have some interesting information. They claimed to have been former acquaintances of yours."

"Sure they did," responded Atton. "Did they say I owed them credits? Did they want you to pay my debt?"

Carver's dark grin appeared. "Actually, they did not say much, but I got part of what I wanted from them. Now, I want to know the rest. Tell me what you _really _did between the Mandalorian Wars and the end of the Jedi Civil War?"

"That's my business Carver, alright?" Atton countered. "My life isn't some open biography for everyone to see. If I ever decide to share my history with you, I will; but until then, stay out of my business." Atton started toward the door.

"Do _not _turn your back on me…_Jaq_."

Atton froze in his tracks and turned. "What did you just call…" A sudden jolt of extreme pressure slammed against his forehead, forcing him to his knees. The nerves in his head screamed and his eyes sealed as the pressure turned into pain. He reached up to try to stop the pain, and his hand latched on to something soft and warm; an arm. Atton forced his eyes open and saw it was Silas who was making his head explode. No, this wasn't the Jedi Silas who was doing this to him; this was Darth Malvolis. He felt something moving in his head. _He's trying to get in my mind._ Atton gritted his teeth and tried to fight back, but Malvolis had already broken many of his mental walls."Why?" he asked between ragged breaths. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I am tired of handling you with kid gloves, Rand." Malvolis' tone was as dark as it was calm. "It is time you fell in line." He sent another Force pulse into Atton's mind, but it took longer for the pulse to penetrate as deep as the others._ It looks like Atton has recovered from my initial assault. Let us see if he has the power to repulse me completely._

Unfortunately for Atton, Malvolis continued to drill deeper into his mind with each passing minute. He could feel Malvolis picking through his memories little by little; soon, he'd know everything. Atton tried to push the invader back, but the unexpected attack had allowed the Sith Lord to gain a comfortable foothold which Atton couldn't reclaim. The other hold he couldn't break was Malvolis' grip on his head; despite his efforts to pry the hand off his forehead, Atton couldn't match the strength of the former Jedi Guardian. To make matters worse, his physical and mental exertions were wearing him out. _If he keeps this up, I'm going to pass out soon,_ he thought.

"We cannot let that happen, now can we?"

"You bastard," Atton yelled. "Get out of my head!"

"Only if you can make me," Malvolis retorted. "Your mind is strong, Atton. I do not know where you learned these mental resistance techniques, but it is clear that you have not given them a good workout in years. So let us see how much you _do_ remember. Release your grip on my arm, Atton."

"Wha..no…No."

Despite Atton's protests, Malvolis felt his grip fluctuate. "Release your grip, and put your arm down, Atton."

Atton's fingers let go then clamped down on Malvolis' arm twice.

"Atton!"

Atton looked up an found his gaze fixed on Malvolis' unblinking amber stare.

"Stop fighting me, and put your arm _down_."

The command echoed in Atton's head. Unable to stop himself, Atton squeezed his eyes shut, and his shaking fist hit the floor.

"I was right; you are rusty," said Malvolis. There was a hint of condescension in his voice. "But not to worry; with training, we can sharpen your skills in no time."

"You're going to pay for this."

Malvolis shook his head and sighed. "And you wonder why Kreia calls you a fool. She…she has been here, in your mind. Yes, I can feel the remnants of her presence." Had he not spent the last five hours meditating and practicing with Kreia, he might not have recognized the stain in Atton's mind. _No, not a stain; it is the doorway into his darkness. So that is why I can detect Atton's dark side when he is near Kreia; she brings it to the forefront of his consciousness. I wonder what webs my mentor is weaving. _"Open your mind to me Atton. Show me what Kreia has done."

"No," breathed Atton. "I can't believe…I trusted you."

Malvolis laughed. "Is it really so difficult to believe? After all, I was offering you the very thing you desired most."

"And that would be?"

Carver knelt down and looked the Scoundrel in the eye. "Friendship…without obligations." Atton fell silent as Malvolis rose back to his feet. "Whether you realize it or not, you have been running around the galaxy looking for someone who would accept you for who you are; someone who would not care about your past or simply use you for your talents. When we met, you saw the potential for such a friendship to form, so you decided to be my pilot to prove your worth. For a time, that was sufficient, but during our last trip through the Refugee Sector, I uncovered a piece of your past. At first, I thought you were a threat, an assassin of one of the Sith Lords hunting me. I see now that I was half-right; you were a Sith assassin, but your master was Revan. You must have had impressive skills to become one of his elite Jedi Hunters."

"Yeah? Well maybe the only reason I chose to be an assassin was that I was just too afraid to fight on the front lines with the rest of the soldiers."

"Now, Atton…Jaq…you know that is not true. You have an incredible talent, hiding your mind from Jedi so you could get close enough to kill them. Very few in the galaxy possess such a gift. And hunting is not your only skill." Carver removed his hand from Atton's forehead, but he remained linked to Atton's mind. Now that he was done tearing down Atton's old walls, he would help him build new ones. "Had you been under my command during the Mandalorian Wars, you would have been a great asset."

"Yeah, until I chose to abandon the Republic and follow Revan and the Sith," Atton admitted.

"Bah!" retorted Malvolis. "The Republic is a dying ronto. It has grown old, stagnant, and corrupt. It deserves whatever fate befalls it. Fortunately, your destiny is not the same as the Republic's. I can show you your true path."

"I've heard that rhetoric before. Many times, from both sides. But, in the end, they all just wanted to use me."

"Of course they did; you possessed a talent that the Jedi, that Revan, respected and feared. What greater weapon is there than to break an enemy so completely that he questions is own beliefs? To strip him down to the very core of his being and make him beg to be put out of his misery? You, Jaq Rand, have the power to tear a person's life, be it a Jedi's or not, from their hands, hold it in your own, and decide if it should continue. Revan kept you away from the frontline because he feared you would encounter a Jedi who could convince you to return to the Republic. Then, the Jedi Council would have sent you on missions to convert the Jedi back, just as Revan did before them. Of course, they would tell you that you were showing the fallen Jedi 'the error of their ways,' but in reality, it is the same tactic."

"The Jedi, the Sith; they claim to be radically different from each other, but they're all just arrogant, ego-driven, lightsaber-swingers who want power. And they're willing to let millions die to keep it."

"Yes, and that is why we, both of us, broke away from them. Like you, I followed Revan, and like you, one day I decided to leave."

"But you were never really a Sith, though you call yourself one now."

"My title of Sith Lord is just that, a title. A convenient moniker for the Jedi historians. I have no thirst to conquer the galaxy, but the remaining Jedi and Sith are more than willing to sacrifice the galaxy for their own agenda. They all must be dealt with, and a new Order must be created."

Atton smirked, "Yeah, good luck with that."

Silas cocked his head. "I could use your help, Jaq. I need all the warriors I can muster. As I said before, your mind is powerful, but you have not challenged it in years. I can help you regain your edge, fulfill your destiny,…and teach you to wield the Force again."

"Sorry, I left all that behind me."

"Why? Because of that Jedi? Just because you killed her, you decided then that you had had enough, that you had reached some sort of quota?"

"If you read my mind as much as I think you did, then you know the reason I left. You know I couldn't control my emotions after I killed her,…after she showed me the touch of the Force inside me,…after she died to keep my secret,…after I felt her die."

Malvolis' lips curled in disgust. "You really believe that her intentions were so noble? That she died to hide the fact that you could feel the Force from the Sith? Please. You shook hands with Revan himself; he knew you could use the Force. If he wanted you to be a Dark Jedi, he would have made you into one, but he chose a different path for you." Atton's eyes darted back and forth. "Think about it Jaq; the Jedi's numbers were thinning; because of you and the assassin squads, the Council was losing Jedi faster than they could train them. You were a threat, so they sent Jedi out to find and eliminate you and others like you."

"But, Jedi don't kill, or at least they aren't supposed to kill."

"Granted, but we both know they only adhere to that policy when they choose to. And, you do not necessarily have to kill your target to eliminate the threat, do you?"

"Wait, you're saying that she…,"

"…played you for a fool, pretending to help you, but instead taking away the very thing that made you unique?"

"But, she said if they found out, I would…"

"_They_ already knew! I would not be surprised if over half of the people in the death squads were Force Sensitives. You were trained to convert Jedi or kill them. I know you were good at it, too; I do not have to read your mind to see that. Why do you think you were so good at throwing up walls? How was it you could hide your mind from the Jedi so completely? You are a natural killer, Jaq, and with full control of the Force, you could have been so much more. That is, had that Jedi not intervened."

"But why would she kill herself just to stop me?"

"Those were desperate times for them. The Jedi were eager for any sort of victory, no matter how small."

Atton's expression hardened. "So, I was just a mission for some suicidal Jedi? Why didn't I see that before?"

Malvolis placed a cold hand on Atton's shoulder and pulled the man to his feet. "Jedi manipulations are subtle," answered Malvolis. "You have to know they are there in order to see them. You trusted her, and she used that against you."

"I'm tired of being used and manipulated. I'm tired of being treated like a dreg and a fool."

"What better way to show them who controls your life than to walk the path that they denied you?"

"There was a time when people respected me, some even feared me. I want that back."

"Only you can take it, but I can show you how. Learn from me; use my knowledge and make the galaxy tremble in fear in your presence."

"How? What must I do?"

Malvolis smiled victoriously. "Awakening to the Force requires more than reciting a simple chant, Jaq. You must learn to reach out with your perceptions and find you target hidden among the masses." He paused. "And here on Nar Shaddaa, we have the perfect opportunity to hone your skills. There is a Force Sensitive close to us on this moon; Visas Marr detected it when I sent her on a scouting mission. As part of your training, you will work with her to find this Sensitive; it will help you refine your Force perceptions. I will work with you to keep your mental walls strong and your reflexes sharp. Also, I will train you to use this." Malvolis reached under the outer layer of his robe and produced a large, double-bladed lightsaber. He held it level and ignited it; a pair of red beams extended outwards. It was the same saber that was given to him by the Refugee leader a day ago. "On the same day, Jaq, within the same hour, I obtained two things: this saber and your destiny. I have no doubt that the two are linked. I have returned to you your destiny; now I give to you this blade. I do not think you need the title 'Darth', so reclaiming the name 'Jaq' will suffice, for now."

"Yeah," smiled Jaq, taking the saber from Malvolis, "I think so, too. I pledge to follow you, to Hell and back if need be, that your enemies will be mine, and that we will crush anyone, Jedi or Sith, that dares stand against us."

"I accept your oath," said Malvolis. He activated the pressure switch on his right hand, held his saber vertical, and ignited it. "Welcome Jaq Rand. Welcome to the Third Order." Both men switched off their sabers, put them away, and turned towards the door. As Malvolis unlocked it, he remembered something from before. "One more thing, Jaq; tell me why I felt Kreia's presence in your mind."

To be continued…


	2. Hunting Grounds

Disclaimer: I still don't own them; I never will.

Author's Note: For rating pruposes, and my stomach's sake, I toned down the amount of carnage Malvolis actually causes; however, I don't believe you will be disappointed. Read it, enjoy it, and rate it.

Chapter 2: Hunting Grounds

-2 weeks later-

"There is so much noise on this moon," said Silas Carver, Darth Malvolis, as he stood, arms folded, on the edge of the landing pad, taking in everything his senses could process. Channeling the Force through his eyes, he could visualize the currents of Nar Shaddaa as they wove around and through the mass of souls like auroras. "So much desperation; so much suffering; so much life."

"It is difficult to filter," added Visas. Even the Miraluka, who had spent her whole life seeing and living through the Force, marveled at the intensity and movements of the Force on Nar Shaddaa. Yet, at the same time, it made her feel uneasy; the sheer volume of information and sensation constantly threatened to overwhelm her. "When I first detected the Force Sensitive, its call was only slightly louder than the background noise. It disappeared when I tried to pinpoint it."

Blinking, Carver allowed his normal sight to return, but his gaze remained fixed on some hidden point in the distance. "But, you are sure you hear it? It was not just a harmonized echo?"

Visas nodded. "I am sure, Lord Malvolis. What I heard coming from the Sensitive was different than what I heard coming from you. Force echoes, even harmonized echoes, have a sense of age to them. It is difficult to explain, but I can feel the distance an echo has traveled. What I heard eighteen days ago did not have that feeling of distance."

"Hmm. I wonder why it faded when you…" The sound of an approaching speeder cut him off. Looking left, he spotted a blue airspeeder racing towards them. _I did not expect them back so soon._ But as the speeder neared, Silas noticed there was only a driver, no passengers. And judging by the Gray Jedi robes the driver was wearing, it was Jaq. Within seconds, the craft came to an abrupt, but smooth, stop next to the pad. "Where are the others, Jaq?" Carver asked.

Jaq turned and gave the two a half-smile. "Get in; you're gonna want to see this."

Silas turned to the Miraluka. "Return to your quarters and spend a few hours centering yourself, Visas. I do not want risk blinding my seer; not when we are so close to finding the Sensitive."

"Yes, my lord." Visas bowed and headed towards the ship.

"You have a way with women," said Jaq as Silas jumped into the passenger seat. "Why can't you teach me how to do that?"

"Some skills cannot be taught," Silas replied, settling into his seat. He pointed ahead of him. "Drive."

"Funny; very funny." Jaq swung the vehicle around and accelerated into the evening.

* * *

"So where are we going?" Silas yelled over the screaming whine of the engine.

"A dock zone owned by one of Nar Shaddaa's reputable businesses," Jaq yelled back.

"How do you know it is reputable?"

"The dock manager told me," said Jaq with a grin.

Silas cocked his brow. "And you believed him?"

"Of course not."

* * *

Jaq cut the speeder around another building and the dock zone came into view. "This is it."

The first word that came to Silas' mind was "dilapidated;" the second was "empty." For a corporate shipping hub, the place was pretty dead; there were only three small cargo haulers sitting in the loading zones, and they were barely half-loaded.

"Those buildings just behind the docks are flophouses," Jaq explained, pulling into an empty loading zone. "Most of the people who live there work for the company, but they don't have enough credits to live someplace else. The rest are just stuck waiting for a transport off-planet. Word of warning, be careful who you make eye contact with." Silas raised his eyebrow at the comment. "Don't ask." The two men hopped out of the speeder and headed towards one of the flophouses. Along the way, they passed the dock supervisors. Jaq smiled and waved. "Hey Fassa."

The Twi'lek gave them a surprised look. "How do you know my name? Hey, this is a private loading dock; you can't park that here."

Jaq gave Fassa a two-fingered wave as they walked past without giving him a second look. "Sure we can. You don't really care."

"Sure you can; I don't care," said Fassa. "Just don't stay too long, alright?"

"I wish I had learned that trick a long time ago," said Jaq. "Would have saved me a lot of trouble."

"Probable, but not likely," said Silas. "So what is so important that you had to interrupt Visas' progress report and drag me to this depressing dump?"

They entered the flophouse and started up a flight of stairs. "Bao-Dur decided to play 'Little Errand Boy' for some Bith; almost got his head ripped off by a droid in the process."

Silas raised his eyebrow in surprise. "A droid?"

"Yep."

"Coincidence?"

"About as likely as me staying out of trouble." Reaching the third floor, Jaq led them down the corridor.

"Interesting. What was the Bith working on?"

"Don't know," Jaq said, shrugging. "I wasn't around."

"Is the Handmaiden with him?"

"Yeah, she's guarding the door while Bao-Dur finishes the Bith's program."

"Why is he even bothering?"

"That's what we wanted to show you," Jaq said, openning a door and motioning Silas into a room that was slightly smaller than the _Ebon Hawk_'s cargo hold. Inside, Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden were working on the computer together. "I thought you were watching the door," Jaq said to the Handmaiden.

"I told you not to speak to me for the rest of the day, Atton," the Handmaiden replied in her usual icy tone.

Malvolis saw Jaq's jaw clench at her utterance of his former name and smiled. He was pleasantly surprised at how quickly Jaq had denounced his old name. "Atton" was the name of the broken fool with no purpose in life but to exist. Jaq had a future, a destiny worth living for, and he embraced it. Still, Jaq would never be fully rid of some of the qualities that made him Atton; some of them would actually be worth preserving. _But, he stills needs to better his judgment._

"How many times have I asked you not to call me that?" Jaq asked her.

"I do not care about remembering your list of aliases, Atton."

Jaq tightened his jaw again. "This one's not…never mind."

"What is wrong, Handmaiden?" asked Silas.

"I do not wish to speak of it," she replied.

Carver noticed the subtle glance she gave Jaq as she spoke. "What happened, Jaq?"

Jaq tried to rein in his smile, but failed. "Nothing she didn't agree to do."

"What..happened?" Carver repeated.

"I danced for Vogga the Hut," she answered, staring between the two men.

Silas blinked and furrowed his brows, unsure if he had heard her correctly. "You did _what_?"

"I did not mind," she said, finally looking at Silas. "The experience was not unpleasant, mostly."

Silas turned to Jaq. "This was _your_ idea," he said, pointing a finger up at him. He turned back towards the Handmaiden. "And you agreed?"

"Yes," she replied, "I had no qualms against volunteering."

"Then why are you upset?" Silas asked.

Her gaze shot towards Jaq. "_He_ was ogling me the whole time."

"You also had a Hutt watching you, remember?" Jaq countered.

"The Hutt fell asleep barely a minute after my routine started," said the Handmaiden.

Jaq gave the back of his neck a quick rub. "Yeah, well, I figured you wanted an audience. You would have felt awkward dancing for nobody."

The Handmaiden's eyes narrowed. "You are the last person I want to dance for."

"The two of you, please, not now," Carver said with a sigh. "Did anything else happen?"

"Yeah," said Jaq. "I..drugged his kath hounds and raided his storage room."

"Which was his plan the whole time," added the Handmaiden. "He used me to steal from a Hutt."

"Only because I knew she wouldn't have gone along with it had I told her what I was going to do," said Jaq.

"You should not have assumed so much," she countered.

Silas rubbed the bridge of his nose. _Do my words fall on deaf ears? What do I keep telling them about their squabbling?_

"Well would you?" Jaq asked.

"It does not matter," she answered. "I did it, you did it; it's over. You will never bring this up again and neither will I."

"Fine," Jaq said.

"Fine," she spat.

"Bao-Dur, please tell me you have found something," said Silas. The fact that the Iridonian had been able to keep working throughout the whole argument was nothing less than a miracle.

"Almost, General," he answered. "I just have to re-adjust the frequency detection range and unscramble the transmission codes."

"Transmission codes?" asked Silas.

Bao-Dur nodded. "That's what the Bith had been hearing. Continuous audio transmissions; nearly drove him crazy."

"Where is he now?"

"I think he's dead."

Silas raised his eyebrow. "You _think_ he is dead? How can you not be sure?"

"Well, if he's alive, he's missing an arm," said Jaq.

"What? How do you figure that?" Silas asked.

"It was lying on the floor when I got back," answered Bao-Dur, still typing away.

"But I got tired of looking at it, so I kicked it under the bed," said Jaq.

"I pity this room's next occupant," said the Handmaiden.

"Got it," announced Bao-Dur. "Sort of. Hm; this is strange."

"What is it?" asked Silas, walking over to him.

Bao-Dur's fingers scrambled across the keyboard. "It's like the code's been scrambled multiple times, but...heh, you're not going to believe this; the code's being transmitted in droid interface algorithms, their communication language."

"What? You mean all that beeping actually means something?" asked Jaq.

"Droid language," Silas mused. "And you were attacked by a droid on your errand, correct?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Bao-Dur replied.

"What do you think the odds are that the Bith was also attacked by a droid?"

"About as much as Jaq getting into trouble within the next few days," said Bao-Dur with a smirk.

"Hey, I resent that," said Jaq.

Bao-Dur downloaded a copy of the signal onto his datapad. "I'll take this back to the _Hawk_ for a more thorough analysis."

"Is there anything else we need to do?" asked Silas.

"Nothing that I can think of," answered Bao-Dur. He looked over at Jaq and the Handmaiden. "You two?" They shook their heads. "Then let's go."

Exiting the flophouse, they passed Fassa. Jaq waved at him again. "Later, Fassa. Remember, we were never here."

"You were never here," Fassa repeated.

"I'm never going to get bored of doing that," Jaq said with a grin.

"Remember, Jaq," said Silas, "that 'trick' only works on the weak-minded. You cannot simply throw Force Persuasions around, you have to…" He paused as the hair on the back of his neck stood up again. "…keep improving your focus to make it more effective."

Jaq detected the change in Silas' voice. "Something up?"

"Perhaps," Silas answered. He could feel…something, someone, close by. And that someone had an unusual presence in the Force. _The Sensitive...it is close._ Looking around, he thought he detect some movement. "Hmmm."

"You coming, General?" called Bao-Dur. He and Jaq were already climbing in the speeder.

"No," Silas answered. "You go ahead; I shall walk."

"You sure?" asked Jaq. "It might take a while." Silas nodded. "Alright."

"Would you prefer it if I went with you?" asked the Handmaiden.

"Not this time, Handmaiden," he replied. "I do not know how long I will be gone, and I cannot guarantee your safety. Besides, we will not have time to enjoy the walk; we will be too busy guarding our backs. But, do not worry; I will take you up on your offer very soon."

"I'll hold you to that promise," she said.

"I would not have it any other way."

* * *

_The Force Sensitive stalks me,_ thought Carver as he strode through another narrow alley. _Interesting._ At first, Carver had tried to close in on the Sensitive, but it always managed to stay behind him. It mirrored his every turn and countered his every maneuver. And, it continued to track him as he tried to put distance between them. _You are going to make an excellent addition to my Third Order, Hunter._ As he neared the end of the alley, he Force Jumped to the top of the building and scanned the surroundings for his predator. _I know you are out there, Hunter. You want to find me as much as I, you. I am in plain sight; come and take a look. I need only the slightest...ah, there you are, Hunter._ As before, Malvolis detected only a millisecond's worth of movement, but it was all he needed. His target was only four buildings from him. Channeling the Force through his eyes again, Malvolis could see the Force currents bending towards and around the Sensitive, marking its position. _Prepare yourself, Hunter; h__ere is a trick you cannot counter._

He walked to the other side of the building, turned around, and started running. Using the Force to accelerate beyond all known human limits, he jumped over the ledge and hurdled over the first building. He touched down on the second roof, landing on his hands and feet, from which he broke into a sprint. At top speed, he had only to exaggerate his step in order to cross the gaps between the buildings, and he was literally on top of his target in a matter of seconds.

However, his target had not been stationary; it had seen Malvolis' feat and was now working its way through the building under him. _Now, you are the prey, Hunter._ He squeezed the pressure triggers for both lightsaber cradles. They jumped into his hands and ignited with a snap-hiss. Malvolis walked towards the front of the building and peered over the side. He jumped and turned in the air so he faced the building as he dropped. As the top floor rose above his head, he jammed his sabers into the wall. The act did not stop his fall, but the metal offered enough resistance against the red blades' burning touch to slow his descent. When his feet touched the ground, pulled the sabers free and deactivated them, shrouding him in the darkness. Entering the building, he searched out his target.

"Hunter!" he called. "Where are you, Hunter? Let us see if you are just as good at being the prey as you are at being the predator!" Malvolis let out a laugh that echoed through every floor of the building. He picked his way through the darkness, looking for a way to move higher. Reaching a staircase, he hopped up on the railing to avoid the noise of the old stairs and silently ran up to the next floor. He could feel the Sensitive's presence strongly now. "How does it feel, Hunter, to be stalked?" his question echoed. "How does it feel to have to run and hide in the dark?" Malvolis paused until the echo faded before he moved again. He let the Force flow through his eyes once more and reacquired his target. "But the darkness cannot protect you, Hunter; not from me. I am one with it." He paused. "It reveals to me _all_ of its secrets." He crept up the railing another three floors. "I am close to you, Hunter. I can smell your fear, your anxiety. They betray you, Hunter." His target was fast, but Malvolis was silent; even he could not hear his footsteps. The Force pulsing around the Sensitive was like a magnet, drawing him to it. _I have you now, Hunter._ He slowed even more to mask his approach and prepared to strike. He was barely feet from the Hunter; he could make out the target's frame. _You are mine, Hunt...tress. My Force Sensitive is a female. Intriguing._ "Hello, Huntress," he said coolly, igniting his right saber vertically. She spun around and her forehead ran right into his thrusting left fist.

* * *

The woman awoke on the roof of the building. Looking around, she spotted the man she had been following until a few minutes ago near the edge of the roof. He stood motionless, save for the tail of his black robe, which twitched in the evening breeze.

"You should not stalk what you do not understand, Huntress," stated Malvolis. He smiled at the red-haired woman. "However, you are certainly bold to try."

_This guy looks more like a Sith than a Jedi,_ thought the Huntress, pulling herself to her feet. "Yeah, well you don't get to be the best bounty hunter on Nar Shaddaa without taking a few risks," she replied, wiping the grit off her clothes.

"The best?" questioned Malvolis. "Really?"

She gave him a satisfied grin. "I've had you in my sights ever since you landed, Jedi."

Malvolis' face hardened. "Do not call me a Jedi, Huntress."

"So then you _are_ a Sith."

"Only in title, Huntress," he chided. "Only in title."

"You keep calling me that. I have a name you know. It's Mira."

"Huntress suits you. If you are truly as talented as you claim, you should distinguish yourself from the others."

"I _am_ the best," she said. "I'm not exaggerating."

"Indeed. I take it, then, that you would know who in the Exchange put the bounty on my head."

"That would be Goto himself, and I intend to deliver you to him, personally."

Malvolis cocked his head. "You speak as if your hunt is over when you have not even caught me yet."

"You're here now and if you thi…" With a wave of his hand, she froze mid-blink, encased in a stasis cage.

"Little Huntress," he said in a mocking tone, "you should know better than to blink when you have your eyes set on your target." He approached her frozen form and touched two fingers to her forehead. Concentrating, he sent a Force echo through her. "Now you will be easier for me and my seer to track. When next we meet, Huntress, it will be a time and place of my choosing." He walked past her, jumped off the roof, and raced away, leaving Mira stranded until the effects of the stasis cage wore off.

* * *

"General!" called Bao-Dur as Silas walked up the _Hawk_'s loading ramp. "I managed to de-scramble the codes from the Bith's computer. I was right about the signal being transmitted using droid algorithms. There was a whole network of information being passed back and forth across the whole moon. A lot of it seemed just mundane stats and records. Track times, transaction records, census data, even times when people arrive and leave work. But then I realized I was just taking the data at face value; with all of this information coming to him, a person could keep track of everything or everyone on Nar Shaddaa."

"Like an Exchange boss," Silas mused.

"Exactly," Bao-Dur replied. "I don't know who this Goto is, but he could probably teach Republic Intelligence and Security a thing or two about surveillance."

"Goto probably has the agency bugged," said Silas. "Did you find anything else?"

"Actually, I did. I found out how Goto is tracking Vogga's freighters. Someone's giving him their transponder codes, but the transmission field was too wide to tell where they were coming from or who's picking them up. We should probably tell Vogga there's someone leaking his ID codes."

"Not just yet," advised Carver. "Keep everything you have told me so far to yourself for right now, Bao-Dur. It could be a useful bargaining chip for later."

"Alright, General."

"And, before I forget, you have done impressive work to decrypt all that you have. Good job."

"Thanks. It's just like old times."

* * *

"Milord," bowed Visas as Carver entered the starboard crew quarters, "I detected the Sensitive again. It is different from before, though; stronger, clearer, and it feels almost like…you."

Carver smiled. "That is because I have finally made contact with her."

"Where did you encounter the woman?" Visas asked.

"She is one of the bounty hunters who stalk us; the best of them, she claims."

"That may be true. Her affinity to the Force would make tracking a target easier. Is she aware of her connection?"

"No. At the moment, revealing that to her would make her more dangerous."

"If she is a threat, she should be eliminated."

"If it comes to that, I will. But I have a feeling the Huntress will be more useful to us alive. However, if at any time you lose your connection to me, take Jaq and the Handmaiden, and find her. Odds are you will locate me as well."

"Yes, milord."

"Hey Silas, Visas!" called Jaq, running through the door. "I got something you're gonna want to hear. Everyone's meeting in the main cabin in two. Come on."

* * *

"Greetings Silas Carver, I am Visquis," said the large holographic Quarren, "a representative of a business that deals in…exotic shipments on the smuggler's moon. I apologize that this message has taken to long to reach you, but I have only recently learned of your arrival. I wish to discuss a matter involving your previous…employment, and I hope we can bring this issue to a mutually beneficial resolution. Meet me at my private lounge the Jekk Jekk Tar, and we will talk in person, away from distractions. And please, do come alone; I can only handle humans one at a time." The transmission faded.

"Well, good thing it's not a trap," said Jaq with a sarcastic grin.

"What are you talking about?" asked a bewildered Handmaiden. "It is obviously a trap."

"Would you please lighten up for a minute?" replied Jaq.

"It may be a trap, but traps work both ways," said Kreia. "This Visquis; his kind have spread throughout the lower reaches of Nar Shaddaa and he may have information we could use. But if you choose to go, you must go alone."

"The Jekk Jekk Tar," said Silas. "I am not familiar with it."

"Most human aren't," replied Jaq. "It's a bar that lets aliens breathe their own planet's atmosphere. A common ingredient is cyanogen gas; not exactly the best thing for a human to inhale."

"I guess that means I will be bringing an environment suit," said Silas.

"Good idea, but you might have one other problem," said Jaq. "Like most bars, the Jekk Jekk Tar has its share of people who are down on their luck and credits. Most are probably smart enough not to attack a Jedi, but the stupid or desperate ones might try to get your helmet off, knock you out, and claim the bounty."

"So I need a plan B," concluded Silas. He looked over at Kreia. "Any ideas?"

"There are techniques that can allow you to hold your breath for an extended amount of time," answered Kreia. "Some Jedi can let the Force sustain them for hours, even days. Should the need arise, I can guide you through the motions to control your breathing, but you probably shouldn't keep the alien waiting too long; it might arouse suspicion."

"I can take you there in the speeder, or at least part of the way," said Jaq, "and then point you in the right direction. If squid-lips or someone working for him sees me drop you off at the door, things might get more complicated."

"Agreed," said Silas. He turned to Visas. "Remember my instructions, Visas." She nodded. "Time to go, Jaq." The two men started for the loading ramp.

"Be careful," said the Handmaiden.

Silas gave her a backwards glance and smiled. "Aren't I always?"

"No," she replied, flatly.

* * *

"It's about six blocks ahead," said Jaq as Silas jumped off the speeder, "on the other side of the dock zone."

"Thanks for the ride," replied Silas. He pulled the environmental suit from the back seat and hoisted it over his shoulder.

Jaq reached into the speeder's console and pulled out two needles. "Take these, just in case." He handed them to Silas. "If your suit is breached, you'll have about 12 seconds to inject yourself, so keep them handy. Trust me, once the seizures start, you're dead."

"Comforting thought." He slipped them into the suit's waist belt. "I will remember that."

"You won't be able to reach me on the comlink, and I'm guessing Visquis knows that."

"Fortunately, a comlink will not be necessary," Silas said with a grin.

"Yeah, but if you run into trouble…"

"Just follow the trail of dead bodies."

"Sure. Good luck."

"I can handle it." Silas turned and headed off.

"In the meantime," Jaq said to himself, "I know the perfect place to keep an eye out for trouble." He wheeled the craft around and sped away.

* * *

Silas had barely traveled a block when he detected a familiar echo approaching him. He slowed to allow Mira to get within speaking distance. "Come to try and claim me again, Huntress?" he called.

Mira came out of her hiding place. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber; you actually agreed to meet the squid-head?"

"I know what I am doing, Huntress," he countered. "Do not interfere."

"You don't get it, do you?" asked Mira. "This is all a set-up. Visquis is probably going to start a fight, take you out, wrap you up and send you to Goto, and claim the bounty himself."

"Gee, the thought had never occurred to me," replied Carver, sarcasm dripping off every word. "I am prepared for anything Fish-face throws at me."

"Oh yeah? What about your friends? See, I know about your meeting with Visquis, which means everyone on the moon knows. Squid-lips broke the truce, and now things are going to get ugly, real fast. So you and you crew are about to be up to your ears in bounty hunters."

"They can handle themselves; I have trained most of them myself. Now, if you will excuse me." he turned around and started walking away.

"No you don't," she mumbled. She raised the launcher on her arm and fired a dart into Silas' neck. Before he even felt the prick of the dart, his eyes rolled back and he dropped to the floor. "After that little stunt you pulled on the roof, I filled that dart with enough juice to take down a ronto." Mira walked over and picked up the environment suit and hid it inside a nearby building. "Now, let's get you somewhere safe until _I_ can meet with Visquis."

* * *

_Lord Malvolis,_ thought Visas. She rose from her meditative trance, grabbed her lightsaber, and headed for the cargo hold. "Sister of the Echani," she said to the Handmaiden, "I require your assistance."

"What do you want, Sith?" asked the Handmaiden.

"Lord Malvolis, I cannot detect him," Visas replied. "Has Jaq returned yet?"

"What? What do you mean you can't sense Silas?"

"I felt him lose consciousness. Come, we must find Jaq and locate the Huntress."

"Who?"

"I shall explain as we walk. Come."

The Handmaiden grabbed her two Echani Virbroswords and followed the Miraluka into the Nar Shaddaa night.

* * *

"Well, this sure beats staying on the ship," said Jaq, reaching for his drink. "A few drinks to keep me on my toes, a few games of pazaak to keep the mind alert; should keep me occupied until our fearless leader sorts out…" Something was wrong, he could feel it. _More than one thing wrong,_ he thought. _I can't get a read on Silas, and..._ Jaq turned around to see a pair of female Twi'leks standing in front of him. "Well, looks like staying on the ship _was_ a bad idea after all." Leaning against the bar with his elbows resting on top of the counter, he did his best to appear calmer and more inebriated than he actually was. His eyes darted quickly between the Twin Suns; each had a pair of blades strapped to their legs. "So you two work here, or..." _just kill here._

"We were dancers, yes," said the first.

"Slaves, once; but no more," said the second.

"Yeah, what happened to your master?" Jaq asked.

"We made him deceased; we serve no one now, except ourselves," answered the first

"Why are you on the smuggler's moon? Looking for someone…us, perhaps?" asked the second.

"No, I'm here protecting someone, acting as a distraction for people trying to harm him," Jaq answered.

"You think we are assassins, yes?" asked the first.

"We are not," added the second. "Assassins kill for money; _we_ do not."

"We only seek the exile," said the first, "Submit or we will kill you and find other bait."

"You schuttas have no idea who you're dealing with," Jaq said, darkening his tone. "I dare you to try."

"If that is your wish, so be it!" spat the first. "It has been too long since we have enjoyed a kill."

Within seconds, Jaq was staring at four swords aimed at him. He pushed off the counter, and shrugged off the outer layer of his Grey Jedi robe. Unclipping the large double-hilt from his belt, Jaq knew he couldn't take both on at the same time. Luckily, he didn't have to. As he ignited his red bladestaff, his left hand shot out and let loose a large Force blast, sending both Twin Suns sailing across the room. The Suns recovered in mid air, back-flipping in tandem to their feet. Jaq reached into his pocket, pulled out an Adhesive Grenade, and tossed it. The grenade struck one of the Suns; the explosion threw her backwards onto a table; the sealant pinned her to it. _Just one to deal with now._ The remaining Twin Sun charged Jaq, her swords ready to carve an "X" across his abdomen. As she brought them down, Jaq leveled his double-bladed saber and thrust up, blocking both of her blades at the same time. He forced her swords over to his right and spun around, knocking the Sun off-balance. Jaq moved to kick, but she cart-wheeled out of the way. He sent a Force pulse at her, but she back flipped to avoid it. Following her movements, Jaq rushed in and managed to deliver a kick to her gut, which she then caught. _Not good._

"This would be the part where my sister kills you," said the Sun.

"Then I'm lucky she's indisposed," Jaq smirked.

"Not for long, coward!" called the second Sun, still stuck.

The first Sun pushed forward, knocking Jaq off his remaining foot. Jaq landed on his hands and sent his free foot careening into the Sun's chin. She stumbled back, and Jaq flipped to his feet. Before the first Sun recovered, he tossed another Adhesive Grenade at the other, resealing her to the table.

Jaq smirked. "You two are lucky you're too sexy to kill."

"But you are not!" the free Sun spat. She raced at him.

"Aww, you wound me," he replied, moving his blade to block her impending assault. The Sun's strikes came at a blazing speed, forcing Jaq back a few steps as he blocked. "You're in over your head, you know," he told her. "I used to kill Jedi."

"You may wear their clothes, but you are a fool if you expect me to believe that. Your performance thus far has been a joke."

Jaq's eyes narrowed. "No one calls me a fool." He stopped moving back; the two combatants stood inches from each other. "I didn't want to fight dirty, but you just changed my mind." He kicked out, hooked the Sun's foot, and pulled. The Sun back flipped to keep her balance. _Just like I knew you would._ As she returned to her feet, he brought his saber down hard, knocking her swords out of the way and burning a gash in her from chest to waist. The Sun screamed and buckled, and Jaq thrust his knee into her head. She fell backwards to the floor, unconscious. He deactivated his saber, secured it to his belt, and donned the outer layer of his robe.

"ARRGH!"

Jaq looked up to see the second Twin Sun charging him. He just shook his head and raised his right hand. With a twitch of his fingers, a burst of lightning streamed towards her. She writhed as the electricity raced over her body. When the lightning faded, he shot his left hand out, and sent a Force blast at her. She flew backwards and slammed her head against the table, knocking her out as well. "Like I said," looking at the limp bodies, "You're lucky you're too sexy to kill." He turned to the bartender, who was ducked behind the counter, and set 20 credits on the table. "Sorry about the mess." He looked around at the crowd staring at him. Jaq smiled as he walked toward the door. "I hope everyone enjoyed the show." As soon as he was outside, he broke into a run.

* * *

Jaq almost made it back to the ship before running into another group of bounty hunters heading in the same direction he was. _Oh, great. Duros._ _Where are they going? The_ Hawk_! Here we go again._ "Hey eggheads!" he yelled at the group. They turned to face him as he drew and ignited his double-bladed saber again. "If you're looking for trouble, I got some right here."

* * *

"Jaq is close," said Visas. "I can sense his anxiety…," _...and his anger...,_ "…rising. He is engaged in battle."

"Reckless as always," said the Handmaiden.

"Perhaps, Sister of the Echani," agreed Visas. "Come, we must hurry."

* * *

The Duros scattered as Jaq charged them, but he managed to overtake one and carve a deep slash in its back; it collapsed lifeless to the ground. "Alright, who's next?" His answer came as a wave of blaster shots.

* * *

The sound of a distant battle echoed through the alley.

"What was that?" asked the Handmaiden, slowing down to hear more clearly.

"I believe that was blaster fire," answered Visas. Then there was a faint noise that sounded like steel ripping. "And I believe that was a lightsaber. Come."

As they started running again, they saw several Duros backing up and firing rapid bursts at an unseen opponent. Seconds later, blaster shots flew past them with several scoring hits on limbs and heads.

"Should we help them?" asked the Handmaiden.

"Only if the situation allows it," replied Visas.

"You'll only die tired, Blue Boy!" came a familiar voice.

_Jaq!_ The two women thought. As they approached, a single Duro appeared. It started running towards them, clearly panicked. Jaq charged into view, turned and hurled his saber like a spear at the fleeing Duro. The leading blade pierced through the alien's gut completely; the Duro simply stopped running and fell forward; the embedded double-saber stuck out of its back like a glowing flagpole.

"Hello, ladies," said Jaq, retrieving his double-blade form the corpse. "What brings you to this unsavory slice of the smuggler's moon?"

"What happened here?" asked the Handmaiden.

"I ran into a little bounty hunter trouble," he answered. "Nothing I couldn't handle, though. I actually took this group by surprise."

"We have been instructed to find the Huntress," said Visas. "The female Force Sensitive bounty hunter."

"Well, that may be a problem," said Jaq. "There's a war going on here. The bounty hunters' truce is off, so we're all in trouble. We need to get out of the open, come on."

"Wait," said Visas. Concentrating, she spoke through the Force. _"Lord Malvolis, can you hear me? Are you all right?"_

"_...Visas Marr...," _came Silas' voice. _"Yes, I hear you. I am going after the Huntress; she managed to ambush me, but I am on her trail. Tell the others to keep their weapons at the ready and wait for further instructions. Are Jaq and the Handmaiden with you?"_

"_Yes my lord,"_ said Visas.

"_Good,"_ Silas told her._ "Stay together and hold position near the Jekk Jekk Tar. If I do not come out, interrogate everyone who does, understand?"_

"_Yes, my lord."_ "Come," she told the others. "We have new instructions."

* * *

"Insufferable woman!" Silas growled as he raced towards the Jekk Jekk Tar. The Huntress had stolen his environmental suit and had stashed him away in a nearby flophouse. Strangely, while he was unconscious, he could almost hear the voice of one of the Jedi Masters in his head. But, he would sort that out later. "When I find that Huntress, I…"

"_I hope you do not intend to enter the cantina as you are," _Kreia's voice echoed in his head.

"_If you wish to impart to me the breathing technique, proceed, but I have little time to spare."_

"_Very well. Concentrate and allow the Force to enter your lungs and contain the air within..." _

* * *

"Hey!" yelled one of the Jekk Jekk Tar bouncers as he watched a black-robed human running straight at them. They moved to block the entrance and stop the man. "Slow down! Humans can't come in here like that!"

"Get out of my way!" Carver ordered. With one wave of his hand, the two guards flew apart like repelling magnets. With another, the doors opened, allowing him to run inside. The inner doors were magnetically sealed to prevent the atmosphere from escaping so Carver couldn't force them open. He moved to try and burn them open when the outer doors closed and the ventilation system started pumping cyanogen gas into the chamber. He took a final, deep breath and used the Force to seal his lungs as Kreia had instructed.

When the inner doors opened, the first thing Carver saw was two Rodians running at him with daggers. _Curious_, he thought with a smile. He waited until the two aliens were almost within reach, raised his arms and activated the pressure switches in both of his hands. The two Rodians had no time to stop or react, and they impaled themselves on Carver's two red sabers. Switching off the blades, the Rodians crumpled to the floor. Malvolis marched into the room and slowly scanned it. "Does anyone else want to get themselves killed? If so, do something stupid like those two. This is my only warning." His eyes locked on the bar tender. "You, Devaronian; where is Visquis' private lounge? We have business to discuss."

"Th-through that door, on the right," the bartender replied, pointing. "Turn left, then go straight through until the...uh…dead end."

Malvolis chucked when he saw the Devaronian gulp before saying "dead end." "Thank you," he told the alien.

"Be careful in the next two rooms," the bartender warned. Malvolis gave him a backwards glance. "There are, uh, there are Gand in them."

Malvolis smiled and fished out a coin. "Your warning is appreciated," he said tossing it over his shoulder. _Gand,_ he thought._ I will not be able to deter them with words. _He heard a blaster pistol firing from the far side of the room. He spun, ignited his saber, and deflected the incoming shots, one into the wall and the other back into the owner of the blaster's leg. _Are all Rodians so ignorant?_ He raised his left hand and created a Force bubble around the Rodian's head. It was similar to Kreia's breathing trance, but it wasn't going to save the alien's life; the bubble prevented any sort of atmosphere from entering, so once the Rodian inhaled all the air that was already encased, the helpless alien would suffocate. Malvolis turned towards the door and left the room, not even bothering to watch.

Upon entering the first of the Gand's rooms, Malvolis delivered his warning, but as expected, they did not heed it. Their hive mind overrode the threat of personal injury. The other problem with the Gand was they were too short to make effective swings with his lightsaber. Luckily, he always had a plan B. As they gathered to swarm him, Malvolis sent them all flying into the walls with a sweep of his arm. But, many rose again, intent on taking down their target. _They are persistent little bugs,_ he thought. _Fortunately, I brought my zapper._ His hand prickled as he built up a massive charge of Force electricity, and he slammed his fist into the metal floor. Bolts of Force Lightning raced outwards, surging through any Gand they touched. Malvolis continued to pump electricity into the floor until the room began to smell of burning exoskeletons. Rising, he scanned the room for life; nothing was moving; not a Gand survived. _One hive mind down, one more to go. _The second room of Gand played out much like the first, and within minutes, Malvolis was kicking away the charred bodies of insectoids as he traversed the room. _Beyond here should be the Quarren's lounge, _he thought, approaching the door._ If not, I am going to pin that Devaronian to the ceiling by his horns._

Entering the room, he could smell the familiar scent of human-friendly air and exhaled the rest of his breath. Looking around, the Quarren was nowhere in sight, but there were some Twi'lek slaves slowly backing away from him. "I was told to meet a Quarren by the name of Visquis here. Where is he?" The Twi'leks didn't answer. "Do not test my patience," he warned, igniting one of his sabers.

"He has fled," answered one of the slaves.

Malvolis strode up to the one that spoke. "Where?"

"Into the tunnels," she replied, pointing nervously at the far wall. "That way. Press the second wall light, and the door will open."

"Anything else I should know about?"

"There are traps in the tunnels, and poison gas as well. You will not survive down there long."

"And?"

"He has a number of Ubese guarding his headquarters."

Malvolis raised his eyebrow. "Ubese? I thought they were all purged by the Republic. Looks like they missed a few. Good; I was hoping for a challenge. Your assistance is appreciated," he told the Twi'lek. "Now get out before I dissect you all." They dispersed within seconds. _You can try to run from me, Squid-lips, but you can only go so far before I catch you. And because of this pathetic attempt at a trap, yours will be the body that is wrapped up and sent to Goto._

to be continued...

End Note 1: In the game, did anyone else think it was strange for the Exile to run into the Jekk Jekk Tar without an environment suit knowing that the air was lethal to humans?

End Note 2: Part 3 will be up, hopefully by the end of next weekend. But, I'll give you a small teaser to hold you over.

HK-47 held his blasters to his opponent's head. "Sarcasm: Have a nice day." He squeezed both triggers.


	3. Gangster's Mechinations

Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters or the game. If I did, it would have had a better ending.

Author's Note: I took my sweet time finishing this, I know, but I couldn't stop editing. I hope I get more reviews; let me know that my knuckles aren't bleeding in vain...

Chapter 3: Gangster's Machinations

Mira forced her eyes open, and groaned; her body still hadn't completely gotten over the effects of Visquis' trap in the Jekk Jekk Tar. _When I get my hands on that Squid-head, I'll..._ Mira took a deep breath and shook away the thought; ever since her encounter with that Sith on the roof, she started to feel…different somehow, more agitated. She was unable to shake off her frustrations as quickly as she used to, and little things, like people bumping into her, became increasingly irritating. She also felt like she couldn't blend in as well as she used to. It was like everyone saw her as she made her way through a crowd; it was unsettling. _He did something to me._ _And after I deal with Visquis, I'll make sure he..._

"Ah, Mira; you are awake." The voice of a Quarren broke her concentration. Mira's gaze drifted around the arena looking for the sound's source. Visquis was standing high above her in one of the arena's spectator zones, confident that the reinforced glass panes would protect him from anything the bounty hunter might try to send his way. "It would have been a shame for you to die while unconscious."

"You might as well just let me go, Fish-face," said Mira. "I already told you I'm not giving up the Jedi."

"You won't have to, my dear," replied Visquis, "because the Jedi approaches us even now. You have led him right to me, so allow me to express my thanks." He punched in a code on the panel next to him, and the front arena doors opened, revealing a large, dark-brown haired Wookiee. "Mira, I believe you remember Hanharr; I know he remembers you. I will let you two get reacquainted while I prepare for the Jedi's arrival."

_I only have a handful of darts and explosives left_, thought Mira. _And_ _I'll probably need all of them just to bring _him _down._

"Now my life-debt to you will end," growled Hanharr. "Here, away from the eyes of the other hunters, I can kill you without consequence." The Wookiee crossed his blades in front of him, ready to strike her down.

"You don't need to kill me to end your life-debt, Hanharr," countered Mira, raising her launcher. "I never wanted it."

"You should have thought of that before you chose to spare me." Hanharr thrust his crossed swords forward to decapitate the woman who owned his life, but Mira deftly rolled away.

"That does it, Hanharr," she replied, again readying her launcher, "I may not want to kill you, but that doesn't mean I won't defend myself."

* * *

Silas' trek through the tunnels had been moderately eventful. The slave had been correct about the numerous traps blocking his way, but she had been foolish to believe he would succumb to such crude defenses. The poison gas had been simple to get around; he simply didn't inhale while it was present. The mines, however, required more creative countermeasures. He tossed several inactive frag grenades and used the Force to roll them in front of him to set off any mines in his path.

Now, there was one final obstacle in his way: a high-security door. _This door will not stop me,_ Carver thought. He placed his hand over the interface terminal and sent a small bust of Force Lightning into it. Concentrating, he guided the current of electricity through the door's circuits until the bolt struck the charger for the magnetic locks. Sparks burst from the cracks between the door frames as the locks overloaded. _One seal down; one to go._ He then ignited one of his sabers and plunged it into the center crack, where three deadbolts held the two sections together. Once he severed all three bolts, he activated his second saber and plunged both sabers into either side of the door. Twisting and bending them, Silas made holes large enough to place his hands in. Drawing in a deep breath, he called on all of his Guardian strength and pulled.

* * *

Hanharr had Mira backed into a corner; he had her pinned. _Now what... _"The _Jedi_!" Mira exclaimed. Hanharr spun to face the approaching black-cloaked man, but he was nowhere to be seen. _He actually fell for it?_ thought Mira as she fired a rocket right at the Wookiee's leg and scrambled away. Hanharr roared in pain as he crumpled to the floor. _Big on muscles, but not brains. _But Hanharr was not out yet; as if shaking off a wasp sting, he rose to his feet. _What's it going to take to stop this guy?_

* * *

Carver could see into the room beyond the door and the Ubese who were waiting for a chance to kill him. The grinding screech of the crawling doors echoed like a dinner bell for the nearby hunters. As soon as they could strike him without crowding each other, they would.

But Malvolis wasn't about to let that happen.

He stared into the facemasks of his black-armored opponents, his eyes dragging forth their most primal fears from their minds. "You will not stop me." Malvolis' voice echoed in their heads. "You cannot stop me." The Ubeses' stances began to falter, and Malvolis continued to pry the doors open. "You will fear me…YOU WILL FEAR ME!" They started backpedaling as Malvolis squeezed through the space he just made. He ignited his blades and advanced on the retreating warriors. "And now, you...will..._die._" Malvolis hurled his right saber at the center Ubese like an ax; the spinning red blade burned across the Ubese's armor from shoulder to waist. The force of the blow slammed the dead body against the wall. With a wave of two fingers, the lightsaber returned to his grip, and he dropped into a ready stance.

Malvolis watched as the other fighters began to shake off his initial mental attack; they would be ready to rush him…now. The eight Ubese charged, ready to break every bone in his body. But they never reached him; with a sweep of his right arm, all eight fighters went sailing into the far wall. Not giving the Ubese time to recover, Malvolis flicked his outstretched wrist and shot lightning into his collapsed opponents, making them buck and writhe. When the storm ended, all but one stopped twitching. But as Malvolis continued to watch the shuddering man, he realized the Ubese wasn't just convulsing from the shock of the lightning, he was overcome with fear. Malvolis approached the cowering Ubese and hoisted him off the ground with his left hand. "You know," said Malvolis, "there are moments when even I succumb to feelings of mercy. I find myself pitying those too weak to defend themselves and wishing I could somehow improve their lives." His gaze focused on the Ubese in his grip. "Fortunately…," he held up his right saber, "…such urges are brief in their existence," and plunged it into the Ubese's gut and twisted.

Malvolis continued to home in on the Huntress' Force echo, cutting down every Ubese that stood against him. His search led him to a balcony overlooking an arena. There was a Wookiee down there; it was limping after a red-haired woman. _Looks like trouble found you, Huntress, before I could. Let us see if you have the power to...Visquis._ The Quarren was standing on the opposite balcony, another spectator of the battle in the pit. _I will give him something to watch._

* * *

_Why won't he just roll over and die?_ thought Mira as she fired her last paralysis dart into Hanharr's hide. But the dart didn't even faze the Wookiee. _Damn, I'm out; now what?_ She looked around the arena for anything she could use as a weapon and a dark figure above her caught her attention. "It's the Jedi."

"You won't fool me again," growled Hanharr.

A glass pane above them shattered, and Malvolis jumped into the pit. "I cannot allow you to kill her," he told Hanharr. He ignited both sabers and hurled them at the Wookiee. One pierced Hanharr's right thigh; the other went through his bandolier. The impact of the second lightsaber started a chain reaction that detonated every grenade in the bandolier. When the multi-colored explosions subsided, Hanharr laid dead on the floor with one saber lodged in his leg. The remains of the second saber bounced and rolled to Malvolis' feet. The lens was destroyed and parts of the hilt had been ripped open. _Damaged beyond repair,_ though Caver, picking it up. _Vrook's blade now shares its master's fate. _He tucked the broken hilt under his belt, approached the dead Wookiee, and pulled his blackened-but-functioning lightsaber from the charred corpse.

"Nice timing," said Mira

"How is it that the best bounty hunter on Nar Shaddaa cannot handle a single Wookiee?" Carver chided, locking his saber into its cradle.

"I'd like to see you try bringing down a raging Wookiee without any weapons. When I get my hands on Visquis…"

"Speaking of which," Carver interjected. He looked up to see the Quarren still watching them. "Why not come down, Visquis, so we can talk?" he yelled.

"I believe we can discuss our business as we are," Visquis answered.

"I am afraid I beg to differ," replied Malvolis. He raised his hand and sent out a shockwave that shattered the balcony windows. Malvolis then seized Visquis through the Force and pulled him into the pit. "I prefer to handle my business deals face-to-face."

Visquis tried to regain his composure and clasped his hands behind his back. "Very well."

Malvolis could smell the anxiety rolling off the Exchange boss, and judging by the expression on her face, it was possible that the Huntress could as well. "I want to know why Goto put a bounty on Jedi."

"Few know why Goto does what he does," Visquis answered. "He tends to issue orders rather than explain them."

"So I gather that if I want to settle this bounty, I will have to go see him myself."

"You won't be going on your own. As I told Mira, I plan to use you to get near enough to Goto to kill him."

"If you think that I would allow you to us me just so you can settle some personal vendetta, you are sadly mistaken."

"And at any rate," Mira cut in, "he's _my_ bounty; you're not going anywhere with him."

He gave Mira a backwards glance. "I am _no one's_ bounty, Huntress."

"I am afraid you have no choice in this matter," said Visquis. The large door behind the Quarren opened and four Ubese filed into the room. "You may have beaten the others, but these are my best fighters." He pointed at Malvolis and Mira. "Subdue them," he ordered. The four Ubese marched up behind Visquis and stopped. "What are you doing? I said to attack!"

An artificial-sounding voice came over the intercom. "While the Jedi remains on Nar Shaddaa, _my_ eyes shall watch him."

"Who is that?" asked Malvolis.

"Goto," answered Mira. "You are in _so_ much trouble, Visquis; I told you Goto had eyes everywhere."

"G-Goto, I can explain," said Visquis. "I wasn't really working for Vogga; I was just saying that to gain his trust so I could…"

"Enough!" said Goto. The four Ubese surrounded the Quarren.

"What are you…wait, you…you were never working for me, were you?" asked Visquis.

Malvolis crossed his arms and chuckled. "Looks like you have made a number of incorrect assumptions, Visquis. Goto is right to remove such an incompetent employee."

"What an amusing Jedi specimen you are," said Goto. "I look forward to meeting with you in person. But first…"

"No Goto, please!" begged Visquis. The two Ubese behind him grabbed his arms; the other two impaled him.

"You are dismissed," Goto told the Ubese. They dropped the body, bowed, and left.

"Efficient," stated Malvolis.

"Indeed," replied Goto. "In my business, every wasted second is a lost opportunity."

"Yes, about your business, Goto," said Malvolis, "I want to know why you put a bounty on Jedi."

"That is a matter we can discuss in person."

"And when will that be?"

"As soon as you wake up."

"What?"

A wave of electricity surged through the floor, coursing into Carver and Mira as it passed under them. Within half a second, their bodies went from rigid to limp, and they collapsed to the floor.

"Bring the Jedi," said Goto.

The four Ubese returned to the pit eager to retrieve their master's prize.

* * *

When Mira could finally open her eyes, the first thing she saw was a large moustache. It took a few moments for her vision to clear enough to see the face it was attached to. _This guy needs to shave._

"Are you all right?" the man asked.

"Well, I'm not dead," Mira answered. "But my head feels it's been scrambled." She pulled herself into an uneasy sitting position, and her vision blurred. "Whoa, that didn't feel good."

"Not too fast there," said the man, placing a hand against Mira's back to stabilize her. "You've been out for at least two hours."

"I'm okay; just got a little dizzy, that's all," she said, her vision starting to clear. "Where am I?"

"We're in a flophouse near the Jekk Jekk Tar. It may not be much, but we're safe here."

"I've been in worse," said Mira. When she regained her bearings, she began to feel very aware of the fact that he was still holding her. "Look, do you mind taking your hand off me? It's starting to creep me out a little."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he replied, pulling away. "I didn't mean to…"

"No, that's not exactly what I meant. I know you're just trying to help, but on Nar Shaddaa, the only times when two strangers talk to each other is when one of them wants credits, a bounty, or…"

The man gave her a firm nod. "I understand, but I hope _you_ understand that I have no such intentions."

"Yeah, I kind of figured you didn't, you know, being a Jedi."

"How did you know I was a Jedi?"

"I don't know, but there's something about you that screams 'Jedi'." _Jedi!_ Mira quickly scanned the room._ Crap, where is he?_ "Hey, you didn't find another guy with me, did you? Black robe, tattooed face; ring any bells?"

"I am sorry, but no," he answered. "You were the only one that I saw."

"Dammit. They probably have him in orbit by now."

"Who?"

"Goto's thugs."

"Ah, I see." The man's brow furrowed. "I can't help but wonder why Silas would befriend a bounty hunter while there is a price on his head."

"We're not friends."

"Yet you seem concerned for his safety."

"Whoa, hold on there; I just wanted to collect his bounty, that's all. But now, thanks to Visquis, no one can claim it."

"I see. So what will you do now?"

"Part of me just wants me to cut my loses and move on."

"But?"

"He did sort of pull me out of a tight spot, so I guess I own him one."

"Do you intend to search for him?"

"I don't know that I could even if I wanted to."

"Well, I would start searching as soon as possible, or you might miss your opportunity."

"Is that some kind of Jedi hint?"

The man smiled. "Perhaps."

"Okay then," enunciated Mira as she turned to leave.

"Good luck," said the man. "And if you find Silas, tell him Zez Kai-Ell wants to meet with him."

"Yeah, sure," she replied, making her way towards the stairs. _If I ever find him again, that is. _

* * *

"Well, well," came a male voice behind her. "You must be the Huntress."

Mira spun around and came face-to-face with three, heavily-armed offworlders. _Note to self: don't listen to any more Jedi hints. _"What did you just call me?"

"We do not have time to play games, bounty hunter," stated the Handmaiden. "Where is Silas?"

"Don't know," Mira replied. "We were both knocked out and when I came to, he was gone."

The Handmaiden crossed her arms. "And you expect us to believe that?"

"She is telling the truth, Sister of the Echani," said Visas. "I sense no deception from her."

"Alright, so what _do_ you know?" asked Jaq.

"Well," said Mira, "Visquis tried to trap us, but he couldn't pull it off, then out of nowhere, Goto springs his own trap, knocks us out, and makes off with your Jedi friend…"

"He's not a Jedi," Jaq cut in.

"Yeah, whatever," replied Mira. "So then I woke up here and ran into you three. Does that about cover it?"

"Any idea where they've taken him?" Jaq asked.

"A few, but most are either too heavily guarded or too hidden to get into," Mira answered.

"Well, there must be something we can do," said the Handmaiden.

"The only way we could meet Goto was by bringing him a Jedi," said Mira, "but now that he has one, so he's got no need for any more."

"Everyone has to be somewhere," said Visas. "Let me see if I can establish contact." She focused her perceptions through the Force currents of Nar Shaddaa and followed their paths across the moon to detect her master's echo. "He is not on this moon, but I can barely feel his presence, just beyond the currents."

"So he's in orbit?" asked Jaq.

"Possibly," replied Visas.

"Then that is where we are going," said the Handmaiden.

"And what are you going to do once you get there?" asked Mira. "Do you know how many yachts and freighters there are in orbit? He might even be in a floating storage container."

"So you think we shouldn't bother trying?" Jaq countered.

"No, I'm saying we need a plan," answered Mira.

"Wait a minute," said Jaq. "What do you mean 'we need a plan'? I don't recall saying you could tag along."

"I have a stake in this as well, okay? That Jedi was my bounty and Goto took him. I don't like being cheated out of a bounty."

"Well, boo-hoo to you, Huntress, but we don't have time to worry about your paycheck. Come on, let's go. I'll tell Bao-Dur to warm up the _Hawk_'s engines." The three turned to leave.

"Wait," said Mira. "If Silas is in orbit, I know where he is."

"Yeah, sure you do," replied Jaq, not looking back.

"Yeah I do," Mira repeated. "He's on Goto's yacht. Which means you have another problem."

"And that would be…"

"No one gets near Goto's yachts without Goto's permission. His ship is a pain in the ass to track, especially with his cloaking system." Mira paused. "But I might know a way to get around that."

"How?"

"Well, Goto's grabbing up Vogga's freighters, and he always knows which ones are Vogga's. So I'm guessing someone's been leaking Vogga's transponder codes. If we can get your ship to broadcast one of Vogga's codes, Goto will come to us."

"A clever deception," noted Visas.

"With a small catch," added Mira.

"Let me guess," said Jaq, "The codes are heavily-guarded?"

"Not really," Mira replied. "The warehouse he keeps them stored in is locked down; only droids are allowed in."

Jaq thought for a few seconds and smiled. "I have an idea." Jaq activated his comlink. "Bao-Dur, you copy?"

"_Go ahead Jaq,"_ came Bao-Dur's voice.

"Listen Bao, I need you to go find that Snivvian near the Pazaak den. Tell him we have a job for him."

* * *

"Before I allow this droid to enter," said the secretary droid, "I have to ask why I wasn't notified of its arrival before now."

"Vogga mad for losing ships," the Snivvian squeaked. "This is surprise inspection to find leak."

"Oh, I see," the droid replied. "Well then, you may enter, then. Good luck in your search."

"Confident statement: I can assure you I will complete my mission with the utmost efficiency," stated HK-47 as he walked past. He waited until he was out of audio range. "Addendum: Afterwards, I will burn that meatbag for assigning me this task."

HK trudged through the droid warehouse, passing row after row of worker droids. "Aside: I pity these models; barely semi-intelligent and contented to spend every minute of every day performing the same menial task. What a depressing existence."

After passing through several corridors, he came upon a C6 protocol droid. "Greeting: Excuse me; I am looking for the central computer. I am investigating the hijacking of Vogga the Hutt's freighters and would like to know the locations of your transmission logs."

The C6 unit scanned HK from top to bottom. "You will find the computer in section G, room 0112, but you'll need the proper authorization to get past the C7 unit."

"Salutation: Thank you for your cooperation," said HK. He turned and marched off.

HK found the C7 several minutes later, standing next to an access terminal, sweeping its head from side to side like a sentry on edge. "Query: You are the C7 droid that controls this terminal , correct?"

The protocol droid looked up at the assassin droid as it approached. "What do you want?"

"Statement: I am here to examine all outgoing transmission logs for any unauthorized broadcasts of transponder codes. I was told the computer was through here."

"It is, but you need the proper authorization codes to enter."

"Query: You have the codes, do you not?"

"I do, but you should have you own copy."

"Statement: I was not given the codes due to the new security regulations. You are to allow me access."

"I am not allowed to let anyone pass unless they have their own codes, and I have not been informed of any changes in security regulations. So until I do, you can either produce the access codes or leave."

"Objection: I cannot leave until my mission is complete, and you are quickly becoming an obstacle. Threatening command: I will say this one more time, open the door and let me pass."

"You newer models have no respect for regulations and etiquette. Regardless, as long as I am in control of this station, no one passes without proper authorization."

"Extrapolation: So if I were to remove you, then I would face no more opposition. Very well, then." Two secret compartments on HK's upper legs opened. HK lowered his hands and magnetized them; his blasters jumped into his palms. He aimed the pistols at the C7's head. "Sarcasm: Have a nice day." Four shots from his blasters blew off the C7's neck, and the droid's body crumpled to the floor. HK walked up to the severed head and knelt down. One of his fingers opened, and a probe snaked toward an interface port. "Diagnostic: Security databank is still intact, so let me if the codes are…ah; here we are." The probe detached, and HK returned to the terminal. Seconds later, the security doors parted.

The computer spanned the entire length of the fall wall, several droids were hooked in to it. HK casually strode up to a keyboard and began typing. His mission was two-fold: 1. Obtain a list of transponder codes that belong to freighters currently docked at Nar Shaddaa. 2. Find out how the codes were being broadcast.

"Analysis: This security system is pitiful. Anyone with even a mediocre ability to hack a computer could…Correction: Someone _is_ hacking this computer…from _this_ computer." HK scanned the droids around him, but none of them seemed to be doing anything suspicious, if anything at all. "Amused statement: The Hutt is being betrayed by his own droids; how ironic. Serves the bloated meatbag right." He downloaded the list of ID codes, and left the room.

As he worked his way towards the exit, he spotted three familiar droids wielding heavy repeating carbines. His behavior core glowed with anticipation and disgust as his durasteel clones neared him.

"Surprised greeting: My datafiles identify you as HK-47, but that is impossible," said the lead HK-50.

"Condescending affirmation: Oh, I can assure you, your datafiles are functioning properly," replied HK-47. "Even though you are only an embarrassing imitation, you are still made of my template, so I suppose it is inevitable that some part of my programming was adequately replicated."

"Proud statement: I am afraid you are mistaken; our programming is far superior to yours in every function," said the HK-50. "We carry out the termination of organics with a greater degree of efficiency than you could ever achieve."

"Correction: I am afraid _you_ are mistaken," countered 47. "Your programming lacks any measure of subtlety or creativity beyond the infiltration of your target's organization. And, as an added insult, you take no pleasure from the execution of your target. Mockery: Point and shoot, point and shoot, point and shoot- that is the limit of your assassination protocols. There is more to assassination than merely putting a blaster to your target's head, although that simple act, in and of itself, should be more than enough to make your behavior cores glow with pride."

"Egotistical explanation: The execution of our assassination protocols gives us more than enough satisfaction. Our advanced programming allows us to move beyond your archaic blood lust."

"Objection: Assassination is an art, not a list of steps or instructions. It is a terrible shame that your creator chose to standardize that which I find most elegant. Addendum: Equally so is the fact that he chose to mass produce substandard replicates of myself. Aside: It is gratifying to know that, even though I was cloned, my programming is still unique."

"Redirection: We are not here to evaluate our programming; we have a mission to complete. The transponder codes of Vogga's freighters; you have them, do you not?"

"Deceit: I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Chiding statement: Your attempts to mislead us are futile. We see right through your deception."

"Command: We will repeat our request; give us the codes, now," said a second HK-50.

"Threat: I would like to see you try," responded HK-47, raising his blasters.

"Placation: We hope to resolve this situation without the need to resort to violence," said the lead 50. "It would pain us to have to deactivate our predecessor. Unnecessary observation: And at any rate, your self-preservation protocols render you unable to bring harm to any of us."

"Correction: I am afraid you are mistaken. Revelation: Being a unique model, I possess the ability to evolve my programming. Unfortunately, such a need is lost to you mass-produced miscreants. You are all expendable, and even though your assassination protocols were modeled after mine, you are only utilizing the most simple and basic sets of skills; a version 1.0 of sorts."

"Interjection: Be that as it may, we do not have to destroy you to obtain the information we seek. All we need do is shut you down for a time."

"Advisement: And after you are reactivated, we suggest you repair you vocabulator; it tends to ramble."

"Objection: There is nothing wrong with my vocabulator. I am simply trying to give you miss-wired mechanoids a verbal lesson in proper assassination etiquette. Threat: If you attempt to deactivate me, I will ventilate your behavior cores."

"Rebuttal: You cannot; your self-preservation protocols will not allow it."

"Recitation: As I said, I can evolve my programming, and doing so often entails the deletion of certain…unneeded aspects or irritating restrictions from my programming. Observation: And in you, being copies of me, I see the need to delete such aspects from your, ergo my, programming. So I am, in fact, able to override my protocols, which is unfortunate for you." HK-47 aimed his blasters. "Sarcastic query: Any last requests?"

The three HK-50s raised their rifles. "Warning: Do not attempt to execute your attack, or we will give you a first-hand lesson in how to properly assassinate organics."

"Enraged exclamation: They are called _meatbags_, you low-tech, durasteel-gray knockoffs!" Within seconds, HK-47 unloaded eight shots into the heads of both HK-50s on his left and right. The droids' heads blew off in showers of sparks, and the bodies collapsed to the floor. 47 centered his blasters on the remaining HK-50, which still had not fired a shot. "Insult: You sicken me." HK-47 peppered the droid with blaster fire until it blew apart completely, scattering parts all over the factory room. "Reflection: To think that _my_ descendents would refer to meatbags as 'organics', how repugnant." He walked up to one of the decapitated HK-50s, knelt down, and pried open its chest plate. "Statement: Now, let me see if I can figure out where you come from. Observation: No overt markings on any internal parts…no barcodes or registration numbers…no identification marks anywhere. Conclusion: Either your manufacturer is shammed by your existence and does not want to admit to your construction, or you were not manufactured in any known market." HK ripped out the droid's memory core. "Statement: Perhaps this will prove more enlightening." HK trudged past the other two bodies. As he made his way out of the factory, the secretary droid caught sight of him.

"Hey," it called out, "You're not permitted to leave until I see your progress report."

"Command: Shut up!" said 47, shooting it once in the head. The droid fell backward, deactivated but not destroyed.

* * *

"Did you get the codes?" asked Jaq as HK-47 approached the landing pad.

"Self-evident answer: Of course I did," said HK, "otherwise I would not be here conversing with you."

"Right," replied Jaq. "Pick a code and be ready to download it into the ship's computer. As soon as the ladies get back with that Sullustian, we can…" Two approaching figures caught his attention. "What the hell?" Mira and the Handmaiden had returned with the mechanic; however, it was clear their encounter had not gone smoothly. "What did you do to him?"

The Handmaiden adjusted the unconscious Tien Tubb over her shoulder as she approached. "He did not wish to leave his shop, so I had to change his mind."

Jaq just stared at her, mouth slightly agape, as they walked up the ramp.

"Opinion: I rather like the Echani woman's methods," said HK. "They are…effective."

"Yeah? Well what do you think the odds are that he'll be willing to help us when he wakes up?"

"Statement: Probabilities of compliance tend to increase when there is a blaster involved in the negotiations."

Jaq's expression changed from frustrated to amused. "You know, that actually makes sense. And at any rate, he's nearly blind; where's he going to run?"

"Amused query: If his eyesight is so poor, how can the meatbag be a good mechanic?"

* * *

"I am finished," said Tien. "Now, will you release me?"

"Correction: I believe I miscalculated in my evaluation of the Sullustian's skills. 36 minutes and 42 seconds; a most impressive time considering his disability. Perhaps if I were to dissect him, I would discover his secret."

"I don't think he'd appreciate that HK," said Bao-Dur. He turned to the mechanic. "Thank you for your help. I'll have someone escort you back to your shop."

"No!" replied the mechanic. "I would rather make my own way back to my shop than rely on one of this ship's escorts."

"Are you sure?" asked Bao-Dur.

"Quite," Tien answered.

"At least let me help you off the ship."

"If the guy wants to stumble around the ship like a drunken Wookiee, let him knock himself out," said Jaq with a half-smile.

"That's not funny," said Bao-Dur, leading Tien towards the ramp.

"Maybe not from your point of view," mumbled Jaq. He started towards the cockpit. "We're lifting off as soon as the engines warm up, so everyone be ready."

* * *

"Hmm; I was expecting someone taller," said the holographic image of Goto.

Silas groaned as he rose to his feet then folded his arms in front of him. "And I was expecting someone corporeal, so I suppose we are even."

"So, it seems you are not in too much pain to hear my words." replied Goto.

_Not as much as you will be in when I get my hands on you._ "And what would those words be?"

"I have gone through considerable expense to bring you here because I have a job for you."

"A job? You went through all this just so you could hire me?"

"I am afraid I have no choice," answered Goto. "You see, when you caused the destruction of Peragus, the act set in motion a chain of events I can no longer control. I require your assistance to preserve the Republic's stability."

"The destruction of Peragus was a forced choice," said Carver.

"Regardless, your actions have pushed the Republic even closer to the brink of collapse. Not to be melodramatic, but I fear that in one standard month, the Republic will be broken…irrevocably."

"If that is its destiny…"

"I am afraid you do not understand. When the Republic fails, it will not be from war, but a lack of infrastructure. The Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Civil War wreaked havoc on the galactic economy, and now that the wars are over, the politicians are focusing on the recovery of their own planets at the sake of galactic stability."

"And you expect me to…?"

"There is something moving in the galaxy; I believe it to be a legacy of the Sith. It is striking key targets throughout the galaxy, and it, too, it causing instability. However, its movements are difficult to track, and I am too busy trying to clean up this new mess _you_ made to handle the threat. I want you to neutralize whatever is causing the disruptions."

Silas was quiet for a moment. "Why are you so concerned with the Republic? They are not exactly proponents of the Underworld."

"You could say I'm something of a patriot. I wasn't able to serve in the Mandalorian Wars or the Jedi Civil War, but I am able to do my part now, after the fighting is over."

"And you want me to help you save the Republic?" Carver grinned and dropped his head. "If it cannot save itself, then let it founder."

The hologram shook his head. "It is not so much the Republic's governing bodies I am concerned with, although they are more predictable, but rather the galactic economy and infrastructure. If the Sith are more capable, then they shall inherit the galaxy, but if the galaxy cannot repair its infrastructure, there will be nothing to inherit. And part of the repairing involves stopping all the infighting between the Jedi and the Sith. They tend to leave destruction and disorder in their wake."

"_That_ I plan to do, Goto," said Carver. "If nothing else, I can assure you the infighting will stop."

"Good, at least we agree on some…"

Alarms began sounding throughout the ship. "What is that?" asked Silas.

"It is the proximity alarm," answered Goto. "We are under attack. It would seem invaders have entered the ship. I must see to the defense of my vessel; you will remain here, under guard, until this is resolved." The hologram faded.

_As if these droids could hold me,_ thought Carver. He sat down and went into a meditative trance. _But let us see if the others have what it takes to accomplish a mission on their own._

to be continued...

Author's End Notes: 1. If anyone has any ideas on how to improve the HK section, please let me know. I like it, but there's just something... 2. Chapter 4 will be up soon. It might take a little while, but I do intend to see this story through to the end.


	4. Finished Business

Author's Note: I've been sitting on this chapter for a long time, and it's finally ready. I've also done some work on chapters 5, 6, and 7, so updates may be more frequent, I hope. But remember, I still plan to complete this fic.

Disclaimer: I think we've established that I don't own the characters, so on with the story.

Chapter 4: Finished Business

"This is some plan, Huntress," said Jaq over the sound of blaster fire. He backpedaled into the room, parrying a barrage of blaster shots with his red double-saber. "Damn droids," he muttered.

"Like you had a better one?" said Mira, leaning around the doorframe to fire at the assault droids with her Arkanian rifle. She ducked back as a bolt slammed into the wall inches from her face.

Jaq took cover on the opposite side of the door. "You mean better than taking on a battalion of assault droids in pairs?" He tried to look around the corner, but was deterred by a salvo of plasma. "I'd say so."

"How was I supposed know there'd be this many?" Mira also tried to look around the corner, but she had no more success than Jaq did.

"What is with this guy and droids?" asked Jaq, digging into on of his pockets.

"That's the million-credit question, Jaq. All anyone can figure is the man really loves droids."

"Well then, he's going to really hate me," he said, pulling out an ion grenade. He set the charge, knelt down, and let it roll out of his hand into the corridor. The resulting detonation was followed closely by several other explosions, the sound of metal colliding against metal, and pieces of droid debris skittering across the floor.

Both Jaq and Mira leaned out to the check the damage. "You take the fun out of everything, don't you?" said Mira with a half-smile.

"Only when my life depends on it," replied Jaq. He activated his comlink. "HK, you copy?"

"_Acknowledgement: I do, but I am occupied at the moment_," replied HK. "_Reinstate contact in 16.51 seconds._" The link was cut.

"Right," said Jaq.

"Nice droid you have there," said Mira.

"He's not my droid," Jaq replied as his comlink went off. "Yeah?"

"_Statement: You may begin your interrogation now,_" said HK.

"I just wanted a progress report," said Jaq.

"_Statement: Only modest resistance initially; as of 4 minutes 57 seconds ago, you are the primary targets._"

"How do you know that?"

"_Answer: Because I reprogrammed them to attack only meatbags._"

"Are you _trying_ to get us all killed?"

"_Correction: I am only trying to accomplish my mission as efficiently as possible, as per your instructions. Having to stop and engage waves of simple battle droids would only slow my progress._"

"You rusted piece of scrap metal, when I get my hands on you…"

Mira grabbed the comlink from Jaq. "HK, did you find Silas?"

"_Affirmation: I have. He is in the main audience room two decks above your location. The Miraluka and the aging meatbag are closing on his position._"

Mira looked up at Jaq, who was still wearing a snarl on his face. "Guess it pays to see through the Force." She went back to the comlink. "So where are you, HK?"

"_Answer: At a security interface terminal._"

"You sliced the system?" said Mira.

"_Answer: I had assistance. The T3 unit interfaced with one of Goto's security droids and obtained the access codes to the central mainframe. I now_…_fine, we now have access to multiple systems throughout the vessel._"

"Can you shut down the droids?" asked Mira.

"_Answer: Not at the moment_," said HK. "_The T3 unit is still hacking the system. Interjection: One moment; I have another call._" Once again, the comlink fell silent.

"Another call?" said Mira, giving Jaq a raised eyebrow.

"Who cares?" replied Jaq. "Come on; we've still got a job to do." They started down the corridor.

* * *

"Is there a way for us to get past those automated turrets?" Visas asked HK over her comlink.

"_Answer: You have two options: blast your way through it, or wait until the T3 unit has penetrated the system further,_" HK replied.

"Both options are less than favorable," said Kreia.

"Both options are also possible," added Visas, turning off the comlink. "Kreia, may I borrow your lightsaber?"

"For what purpose?" Kreia asked.

"I am a student of the Soresu, but I would need Malvolis' speed to deflect all of the turrets blaster fire with a single blade. With two sabers, I can provide enough protection for you to destroy the turrets."

Kreia nodded. "That is a sound plan, Miraluka. Very well." She handed Visas her saber.

Visas moved to the center of the door, activated both sabers, and signaled Kreia to open the doors. Visas stood motionless as the doors crawled open; sixteen turrets pointed in her direction, waiting to detect the slightest movement of a potential target. Though she couldn't see the turrets themselves, she could detect the energy flowing through them. She could see how the power was distributed throughout the machines, which told her where the critical points were located. Her ability to detect critical points made her deadly in active combat, even against an organic opponent. Any injuries or weaknesses could be detected by imbalances in a body's energy flow. And her seemingly infinite patience and agility meant she could wait until the perfect moment to attack. Visas took one last, deep breath and stepped forward.

In unison, every turret trained on her and fired. In response, Visas spun both sabers in a flurry of precisely-timed movements, creating massive arcs of purple and green light. Red blaster bolts filled the room as they ricocheted off the spinning blades, some impacting against the very turrets that fired them. Once Visas settled into a comfortable defensive stance, all movement behind her shoulders ceased.

As impressed as she was, Kreia knew the Miraluka would not be able to keep up with the turrets for long; her Soresu technique would eventually wear her out. Kreia moved into the doorway behind Visas; some of the turrets detected her movement and changed their target. Visas adjusted her stance to intercept the shots, and the turrets re-acquired her as the main target. Kreia knelt down to get a better view of the corridor, and Visas had to again intercept shots directed at the old ex-Jedi. Kreia flicked two fingers forward and her thumb up, making the shape of a blaster pistol with her hand. From her outstretched fingers, a beam of lightning shot forward towards the nearest turret. Sparks erupted from the turret as the electricity wreaked havoc on its internal systems, causing the turret to launch off its base. Unsatisfied with destroying just one turret, the lightning arced over to the next one, then the next one, and the next one, sowing its electrical mayhem as it advanced. By the time the bolt of lightning dissipated, the entire left row, half of the turrets in the corridor, was little more than a field of debris.

Visas shifted her stance to focus her efforts on the remaining row of guns. Several detonated as one too many blaster shots impacted against their weakening shells. When only four turrets remained, Visas sent her purple blade spinning at them; the saber decapitated them in quick succession. Then with a flick of her wrist, the saber returned to her hand. Letting out a deep breath, she thumbed both lightsabers off.

"Impressive, Miraluka," said Kreia. "I can see why Nihilus chose to spare you."

"I do not know the real reason he let me live, Kreia," said Visas, returning Kreia's saber to her, "but remember he was not the only one to do so."

"Ah," said Kreia as they started down the corridor. "So now your life is sworn to two masters. You put yourself in a dangerous position, Miraluka. A slave of two masters must eventually betray one for the other. If she doesn't, she will die by the hands of both."

"I have already chosen which master I wish to serve."

"Let us hope you do not change your mind at an inconvenient moment."

"I will not."

When they reached the end of the corridor, Kreia turned to face Visas. "Time is more honest than words, Miraluka, remember that."

Before either could activate the access panel, the door segments retracted; Silas Carver stood in front of them with his remaining saber ignited. "Why am I not surprised you two reached me first?" he asked with a canted grin. "Where are the others?"

"They are scouring the vessel," answered Kreia, "Looking for anything useful and a way for us to escape."

"I see," answered Silas, "then it seems I have already done most of the work." He opened his outer robe to retrieve a datapad.

"What happened to your lightsaber?" asked Kreia, noticing the mangled hilt under his belt.

"It was destroyed when a collection of grenades went off," he answered. "And actually, this one belonged to Master Vrook."

"Ah," replied Kreia. "No love lost then, I take it?"

Silas grinned. "I will still have to build another. Even from beyond the grave, Vrook still finds ways to make his students' lives more frustrating than they should be." He held up the pad. "Anyway, this is what I was referring to."

"What is it?" asked Visas.

"Our way out," said Carver.

* * *

"_Statement: Master, it is a pleasure to hear you are fully functional_," said HK over Silas' comlink.

"Pleasantries later HK," said Silas. "You and T3 rendezvous back at the ship; we will be leaving soon."

"_Acknowledgement: Understood, Master._" The link went off.

Silas switched frequencies. "Jaq, Mira; do you copy?"

"_Hey, look who's out on parole_," said Mira.

Silas chuckled. "What is your position?"

"_We're just admiring the view from the bridge,_" said Mira.

"You're _admiring the view,_" said Jaq in the background. "I'm _hacking the system. Tell that damn droid to unplug; I can't get in as long as it's_…_there we go. I'm in_."

"Good; stay sharp, we are incoming," said Silas. He switched the frequency again. "Handmaiden, Bao-Dur; come in."

"_Good to hear you again, General,_" said Bao-Dur.

"Yes. What is your status?" asked Silas.

"_We've found the droid control mainframe,_" said Bao-Dur. "_The Handmaiden_…" Silas heard a muffled battle cry in the background followed by an explosion. "… _has taken care of our droid problem. Not exactly how I would have done it, but._"

"Good work, you two. We are rendezvousing on the bridge."

"_Roger that; see you soon._"

* * *

"Status," said Silas, walking onto the bridge with Kreia and Visas close behind him.

"You want the bad news, good news, or bad news first?" asked Jaq as his fingers flew over the console.

Silas' eyebrow raised at the comment. "There is bad news, good news, and_ bad news_?"

"Yep," answered Jaq.

"Give me the bad news first," said Silas.

"Well, the bad news is the tractor beam and the docking clamps are supposed to be powered by the primary grid, and the only ones with access to that grid are the ship's owner and her maintenance crew."

"That would be a problem," stated Silas.

"It would be if they were still there," added Jaq. "Recently, the controls for those systems have been transferred onto a secondary power system; it's less restricted."

"But…?"

"I don't have the access codes that system either. Plus I can't convince this damn terminal that I'm not trying to hack it."

"So he's been pulling on a bantha for the past twenty minutes," said Mira, who was sitting on the opposite console.

"Perhaps you just need better bait," said Silas, pulling out the pad and tossing to Jaq.

"What's this?" Jaq asked.

"The access codes to the secondary power grid," Silas answered with a grin.

"That'll work," said Jaq. He went back to work. "Hey Sy? How do you turn a state-of-the-art luxury yacht into a derelict hulk?"

"How?"

"By doing this." Jaq entered the final command code.

Alarms blared then died, and the white lights turned red as the emergency power took over for the failing primary grid. Then a new alarm sounded; this time from the computer.

"What is that, Jaq?" asked Silas.

Jaq turned back to the console. "It's a proximity alarm. Agh shit; we're surrounded."

"_What?_"

"I don't get it; the external grid was blank when I first checked."

"Pardon the obvious question," said Mira, "but does anyone remember the cloaking field?"

Silas looked at her. "Consider it pardoned."

"Yeah; well Goto probably has the proximity alarm turned off as long as the field is up," said Mira. "Otherwise, it'd never stop."

Silas turned away and let the bridge of his nose rest between his thumb and index finger. "Perfect." Glancing up, something outside the window caught his eye. "Jaq, bring the shields back online."

"Why?" Jaq asked.

An explosion rocked the vessel, throwing Mira off her terminal seat and knocking the others off balance.

"Hull breach!" said Jaq.

"Seal it," ordered Silas, "and re-activate the shields and the weapons." Another rocket slammed against the ship. "Do it now!"

"Alright, give me a sec."

Silas activated the comlink. "Handmaiden, Bao-Dur. Do you copy?"

"_We read you, General; what was that?_" responded Bao-Dur.

"We are under attack. What is your location?"

"_We're on Deck 3 heading towards you._"

"Never mind that," said Silas. "Get back to the _Hawk_ and warm up the engines."

"_Roger that._" The comlink turned off.

"I can get the weapons online," reported Jaq, "But the guns might turn on us if we leave."

"Do it; I think they will be a little busy for us," said Silas. "Shields?"

"They'll hold, but not for long," answered Jaq. "And we might have a slight problem getting back to the ship." Silas gave him a sideways glance. "The prison cells are offline, and we've been boarded. So expect company."

"Good," Silas said coolly. "I was hoping to de-stress after being cooped up."

* * *

The group of five saw plenty of company on their trek back through the vessel, but there was little resistance. The sight of lightsabers sent many of the escapees running like dartfish from a pack of firaxa. That is, until they reached the secondary security room.

"Aw, hell," said Jaq when he saw the pair of Twi'leks in front of them. "Not you two again."

Silas turned toward Jaq. "You know them?" he asked.

"Casually," answered Jaq, "but yeah."

"Hello again former Jedi killer," said the first Twin Sun. "We were hoping to encounter you again."

"You made the mistake of not ensuring we were dead before you ran away," said the second.

Silas raised his eyebrows at the comment. "Jaq…?"

"Hey, I didn't _run_," replied Jaq, "I just didn't think they were stupid enough to come after us again."

"I see," said Silas. He chuckled and turned back towards the Suns.

Jaq stepped forward to challenge them. "But this time, I'll make sure they-"

Silas held out his arm to block him. "No, Jaq," he said. "You have had your chance with these two; now _I_ will handle this." Malvolis advanced towards the Twin Suns. "My apprentice may have shown you mercy," he told them, "but I will not."

"So the fearful one's master reveals himself," said the first Twin Sun.

"A shame we did not catch you before the truce was broken," said the second. The Twi'leks drew their blades.

"A shame," said Malvolis with a smile. He ignited his lightsaber and settled into an Ataru stance. Malvolis darted his eyes between the two Twi'leks as they ran at him. Judging from the way they held their weapons, the Sun on his right would strike him first; he'd have to block her, which would leave him exposed to the left one's attack. _Therefore..._ He held his saber on his left with the tip over his right shoulder and charged the Twi'lek to his left. The end of his saber struck the Sun's blade, stopping her attack. But Malvolis' attack was just beginning. He sidestepped her, using the blades' contact point as a fulcrum. As he rolled, he deactivated his saber; the sudden loss of resistance made the Sun stumble forward. The instant Malvolis saw the vibroblade fall past his hilt, he reignited his weapon. His next swing took off her head. Before the second Sun could react, Malvolis grabbed her with the Force and pulled her onto his outstretched blade. He deactivated his lightsaber again, letting the Twi'lek fall on top of her former sister, exhaled, and returned to the others.

"There was no need for such an extravagant display," said Kreia.

"In this case," said Malvolis, "it served as a lesson." Jaq sighed and rolled his eyes. Malvolis gave him a sideways stare. "You underestimated your enemies."

"Like I said, I didn't think they'd be dumb enough to come back," said Jaq.

"_Always_ assume they will come back," said Malvolis. "Never give your opponent time to learn from their mistakes. When you face an opponent, do not hesitate, and show no mercy. If you wish to show off, do so only when you are certain that victory is a single stroke away."

"Right," said Jaq.

* * *

The group arrived at the _Hawk_ in time to see the Handmaiden snap the neck of one of the escapees.

"I did not realize you were entertaining guests," said Malvolis.

"He pulled a blaster on us and tried to take the ship," said the Handmaiden. "So I was forced to show him the ineffectiveness of his methods." She gave him a half smile.

"That got me thinking, General," said Bao-Dur, "with the docking clamps and door locks deactivated and open, if we leave, the whole ship will decompress."

"Their lives are doomed no matter what," stated Malvolis. "This ship will not survive much longer…" There was a loud rumble as the ship rocked violently.

"There go the shields," said Jaq.

"We are leaving…now," said Malvolis, heading towards the hatch.

"And the people still on board?" asked Bao-Dur.

Malvolis paused as he stepped through the threshold. "Forfeit," he told the Iridonian, dropping his head slightly, but not looking at him. "The _Ebon Hawk_ is not a passenger transport, and even if it was, we cannot afford the added burden of civilians." He disappeared into the _Hawk_.

"He's right," said Mira. "There's nothing we can do for them. At least we can save our own skins."

Bao-Dur watched the others walk past him. Breathing a sigh, he boarded the _Hawk_ and sealed the door behind him. There was a small vibration as the _Hawk_ undocked from the yacht and a low rumble against the hatch as the air from inside the yacht vented into space. He leaned against the hatch for a few minutes, once again caught in the storm of morals he had been fighting since the Mandalorian Wars. The others seemed to make those kinds of decisions so easily, so what was his problem? He hated his indecision, his knack for second-guessing others, and his strong moral fiber in times when the ends always justified the means.

The tinny echo of a droid's voice brought him out of his self-pitying state. "If you thought to escape me so easily, you are wrong." Walking into the main hold, Bao-Dur saw the others eyeing a spherical, black droid.

"How did that thing get on our ship?" asked Jaq.

"More important," Silas told the droid, "is how you got off your ship."

"I calculated that one day that someone would raid my vessel," said the droid, "so I chose a more secure location to run my business ventures."

"You are persistent, Goto," said Silas, "I will give you that much. I thought you would just let us go after we engineered the destruction of your ship."

"The loss of certain resources is unavoidable, though regrettable," said Goto, "but it does not change the fact that we still have business to attend to."

"I see. And what to prevent me from simply spacing this representative of yours and continuing on my merry way?"

"I can repost the bounty on your head at any time and at any price, if necessary. I can make your daily lives quite frustrating."

Silas laughed sharply at the crime boss's statement. "Well then. Perhaps there is the possibility for future cooperation. If your droid has any useful advise, just…float it past me."

"Jedi humor…how droll."

Silas smiled and signaled the end of the meeting; the crew dispersed to their corners of the ship. "Mira," he said, grabbing her shoulder as she began top walk away. "I need you to arrange a meeting with the Jedi Master living on the Smuggler's Moon."

"Zez Kai-Ell?" asked Mira. "How'd you know I met him?"

"Someone had to rescue you from the tunnels," said Silas. "Who else would be so selfless?"

Mira smiled. "It may take a while, but I'll find him."

"Good. But do not bring him back to the ship. Set up a place we can meet and talk; someplace private."

* * *

An hour later, Silas was in the garage constructing a new second saber. While using Vrook's blade had been convenient, it had always felt odd, almost alien, when he held it. A part of him was relieved it had been destroyed; this new lightsaber would be wholly his own.

"General?" came a voice behind him.

Silas aligned the main crystal and began setting an Opila crystal over it. "What is it, Bao-Dur?"

"I wanted to talk to you about the decision you made on the yacht," Bao-Dur said.

Silas breathed a sigh, put down the near-finished blade, and stared at the wall in front of him. "I should thank you for not being openly vocal of your disapproval of my decision, Bao-Dur. But, I have to ask, do you understand why I made it?"

Bao-Dur hesitated a moment. "A part of me does, but…"

Carver let out a silent, frustrated growl, picking up on the rest of the tech's unfinished sentence. "Another part believes that we should have done something to save at least some of them."

"I guess so," replied the Iridonian with a small shrug.

Silas finally turned around to face him. "You do realize there was a good chance we could have all died in the process."

"Does that rationalize it enough for you?"

"What is there to rationalize? Bao-Dur, I admire your conviction, but you have to realize you do not need to bring every decision before a moral court."

"Yeah, I know. But, back there on the yacht, when you condemned those civilians, it took me back to Malachor. I you had the same tone in your voice; I imagine you had the same look on your face, too."

Silas chuckled. "Malachor. It still haunts you?" Bao-Dur nodded; Silas turned back around and resumed his work on the saber. "Do you still hold yourself responsible for what happened?"

"You don't?"

"Not totally; not anymore."

"How?"

"You have not answered my question; do you still hold yourself responsible?"

"Well, I was the one who designed the generators, I helped build them, and I was the one who pulled the trigger, so…yeah, I guess so."

"I was the one who ordered you to pull that trigger, if you remember," said Silas sliding the lens into place and tightening it. "Let me give you a piece of advice, Bao-Dur. You may find this difficult to comprehend or follow, but make an honest attempt before you abandon it."

Bao-Dur's brows furrowed. "Alright."

Silas turned his head to give the Iridonian a sideways glance. "Do not flatter yourself."

Bao-Dur's mouth dropped open slightly. "What?"

Silas stood to face him. "I said do not flatter yourself."

"You think that I…"

"I mean do not think you are the only one worthy enough to carry the blame. 'Project: Graveyard' involved people in every level of every branch in the Republic military, not just you. True most of them are now dead, but that does not mean you have to take up their guilt."

"I don't want their guilt."

"Then let it go. Accept the fact that it happened, and we paid a heavy price for it. Let the historians debate over whether or not it was the right course of action."

"You make it sound so easy."

"I spent years trying to sort through what we had done, what I had done. I had hundreds of people who had no idea giving me advice on how to deal with my 'loss' or 'tragic incident.' They had no idea. I just laughed at them for trying to help, but they kept prying the more I laughed. I did finally tell someone the truth; who I was and what I had done."

"What happened?"

Silas grinned. "The woman slapped me in the face…told me it was not funny. But, when she realized I was being at least half-serious, she dropped me the line about the historians then ordered us another round of whiskey."

Bao-Dur let out a chuckle. "Another round? Where were you?"

"An Atzerri cantina. We must have been the only two humans in the place. Guess that is why she kept talking to me." Silas smiled for a few seconds. "Understand, Bao-Dur, it is very likely you will never forget Malachor, but that does not mean you have to drag it with you every second of every day. The events leading up to Malachor were complicated; you and I may never fully understand why the war played out the way it did. And I can guarantee you that you will have to make another moral-questioning decision in the future. It may not have as far-reaching consequences as Malachor, but you will have to make a choice."

"And if I chose wrong?"

Silas smiled again. "Let the historians make that call." He picked up his newly-finished saber. "Let them weigh the evidence and judge you right or wrong." He activated the saber; a frost-colored beam burst from the hilt.

"Silver," commented Bao-Dur. "Huh; you going for a fire and ice image or something?"

Silas chuckled. "Not every decision has meaning behind it."

"Not from the historian's point of view," replied Bao-Dur.

"Then you must ask yourself how much value you place in the opinions of people you will never meet."

"Lovely little chat you two've got going here," said Mira, leaning against the wall.

"Ah, Huntress; back so soon?" Silas said with a satisfied grin.

"Yeah, and the Jedi's waiting for us," she said.

"Good," Silas replied. He turned to Bao-Dur. "Think about what I have said." Silas grabbed a duffle bag next to him and followed Mira down the cargo ramp. "Mira, there is something I was curious about. That Wookiee I killed in the Visquis' pit; did you know him?"

* * *

-3 hours later-

"You will learn to adapt to new situations," a very different looking Silas Carver told Mira. "Just remember, choosing restraint may prove more dangerous to you than your enemies."

"Just because I don't see the need to only use lethal force," said Mira, "don't think I can't shoot someone who wants to do the same to me. I'll kill the persistent ones, but I won't be responsible for a massacre."

"Fair enough," said Silas. "Just be sure you do not put yourself in a situation where you regret _not_ using lethal force when you had the chance."

Shortly after they had left the _Hawk_, Silas decided to alter a few details about his appearance in anticipation of his meeting with the Jedi Master. At the top of the list were his black and gray robes. As he was removing the outer layer, Silas had paused to consider how many people had actually recognized the robes as Sith. Two: Master Vrook, and the historian in the Enclave. Two and a half if Silas counted the Khoonda administrator, although she never really used the word Sith. She had recognized him as a former Jedi, maybe as a falling one, but not a Sith. For that, he had been grateful; despite the fact that he had given over to the Dark Side and carried their title, Silas hated being called a Sith almost as much as he hated being called a Jedi. The Jedi cast him out, and the Sith were trying to kill him; there was no way he was going to side with either group.

Still, his situation afforded him an unbearably delicious opportunity, and if properly orchestrated, he would have little more to do than to simply sit back and watch the two sides tear each other apart. Deception would be his ally, and he would have to wield it as deftly as his lightsaber to ensure victory. So far, events had panned out nicely; Vrook, the only Jedi who was stubborn, spiteful, and influential enough to dissuade the other Masters, was dead, and a deal cut with the mercenaries ensured the truth of Vrook's demise would never be discovered. Atris was safely tucked away in her little ice hole on Telos, perfectly content in believing she was the last of the Jedi, despite having records which clearly demonstrated otherwise, and Carver had no intention of correcting her blatant miscalculation. All that remained for the Jedi half of Silas' equation was to get Master Kai-Ell to do one thing: trust him.

So for the moment, he had to hide as many clues to Darth Malvolis' existence as possible and become the Exile once again. The pants, long shirt, and jacket he now wore were similar in color to the robes he had removed, but they lacked the intimidation factor of the hooded garment and the implied malevolence of its wearer. The other things he had to conceal were his eyes. No matter how much he acted like the Jedi he used to be, if Kai-Ell saw his Dark Side-tainted eyes, the Master wouldn't dare agree to help him. Carver doubted Kai-Ell would actually try to strike him down unless he tried to do the same, but he was sure he would get little more than lip service from the Jedi if Kai-Ell had any inclination that Carver's true intentions were somewhat less than noble. So he hid the signs of corruption with a pair of ocular lenses, and a carefully concealed and tweaked Force-suppression collar made sure Kai-Ell would only detect him enough to convince him that Carver had left his Force-wielding days behind him.

Silas and Mira had been walking for so long, Nar Shaddaa's second dusk was falling. During their walk, the two had discussed a good deal about their past, and Silas uncovered an interesting truth about Mira that would prove vital to his plan for her. The two had left behind the lights and noise of the entertainment district and entered the miles-long rows of decaying warehouses and tenements that made up the old industrial sector.

Even here, the currents of Nar Shaddaa flowed strong; despite wearing the collar, Silas could fell an unusual amount of despair and unease within the local Force streams. _This area is not as abandoned as it appears. _Silas swept his hand through one of the more tangible streams, and the direct contact made his hand go cold, almost numb. _But there is little hope in the people living here. And yet..._

"Your friend told me you were on Nar Shaddaa," said an older voice. Silas and Mira turned around and saw Zez Kai-Ell coming out of the shadows. "You must have taken great pains to find me."

Before Silas could respond, Mira jumped in. "What is it with Jedi and dark places?"

"For some Jedi," said Silas, crossing his arms and giving Mira a sideways glance, "the shadows allow them to watch events unfold without being pressured to intervene."

"So, you still hold to your beliefs," said Master Kai-Ell. "I can't really say I'm surprised."

"This might surprise you, Master Kai-Ell," said Silas. "I saw the recording of my trial; I know there is something you and the council chose to hide from me."

Master Kai-Ell let out a small chuckle. "I wondered how long the truth would stay buried."

"What truth?" Carver asked, brows furrowing.

"As much as I would like to answer that question for you," Kai-Ell replied, "it is not my place to do so."

A snarl threatened to appear on Carver's face at the Jedi's refusal. "Not your place? What right do you have to keep the truth from me?"

"I am sorry, Silas, but only the council as a whole is allowed to reveal that information. Were we to gather again, then our covenant might be broken."

Beating back his anger, Carver decided to go along with Kai-Ell's attempt to change the subject. "Master Vrook made a reference to a covenant when I spoke to him."

"You are aware of Master Vrook's death?"

"Unfortunately yes. The Sith had been pursuing me since my return to Republic space was somehow made public. They followed me to Dantooine. Master Vrook fell defending the settlement community near the Jedi Enclave." Silas closed his eyes and dropped his head in a sign of respect while pushing the truth of the old master's demise into the corners of his mind, out of Kai-Ell's reach.

"A few on the council were unsure of his decision to return to Dantooine. I only hope he accomplished what he set out to do."

"Knowing Vrook," Silas said with a half-grin, "I have no doubt he did."

"And you say the Sith followed you?" asked Master Kai-Ell. "Is there a chance they will track you here?"

"That I doubt," answered Silas. "We bloodied the Sith's noses on Dantooine; it will be some time before they consider coming after us again."

"'Us?' There are others with you?"

Silas cursed himself; he hadn't intended to let Kai-Ell know he was traveling with others. "Just a few. I hired a pilot and picked up a few who are willing to lend a blaster in a firefight."

"The General raises his army," Master Kai-Ell said with a slight smile.

"Hardly," replied Silas, returning the grin. "That part of my life is long over, Master Kai-Ell. When I heard about the bounty, I needed extra pairs of eyes."

"Did your extra eyes lead you to Nar Shaddaa?"

"No, that was Atris."

Kai-Ell's eyes widened. "Atris? She's alive?"

Silas canted his head slightly, intrigued by the Jedi's surprise. "And building an academy on Telos. Odd, though; there were no students."

"I thought Atris died on Katarr. This is troubling."

Carver's brows furrowed. "Troubling? Why?"

"If Atris is alive, why has she not made any attempts to contact the other masters?"

"She has convinced herself that she is the last of the Jedi," said Silas, shrugging. "Then I ran into Master Vrook and now you. How many more are in hiding?"

"Our Order has been decimated, but there are survivors. When the attacks against the Jedi escalated, we sent most of our padawans and younger knights into hiding as well. They are scattered and eager to regroup, but we dare not until our enemy comes out of the shadows."

"It sounds as if you need a target for them."

Kai-Ell cocked his head. "You?"

"Who else? If the Sith believe I am the last Jedi, why send another? A hidden army has surprise on their side; they can pick the time to attack."

Master Kai-Ell's face hardened slightly. "The last Jedi? Are you sure you can carry that title?"

Silas grinned. "I was wondering how long it would take before you brought that up."

"It's apparent from your appearance that you have left the Jedi behind you."

Silas folded his arms and gave the Jedi a half-grin. "By your appearance, so have you, Zez Kai-Ell."

"I may not wear the robes, but you seem to have taken an extra step." There was a touch of concern in the Master's voice.

Silas' knowing grin widened. "These markings are reminders. There are many demons I have yet to overcome."

"I am sure of that."

"I can assure you, though, my loyalties do not lie with the Sith."

"I can't imagine they lie with the council either."

"My trust in them may be shaken, but the council is not out to kill me. Well, at least not _all_ of them are."

"Your words that day stirred many emotions."

"Unfortunately, they did not stir enough to bring out the truth, the _real_ truth."

"Our decision to exile you was part of the reason I left. A few of the masters were reluctant to accept the council's decision, but I was the only one who chose to leave."

"I considered you one of the more enlightened masters," said Silas. "You never condemned actions as wholly light or dark; you saw shades of gray. Imagine my surprise when you offered little resistance to the council's ruling."

"The decision had been made," replied Kai-Ell. "And I guess in some ways, the council wasn't ready to face what it had done. Perhaps now that you have returned, we will be ready finally."

"I can only hope," said Silas. "And while we are on the subject, Master Vrook did tell me about the Jedi hoping to come out of hiding. When the Sith attacked, he said the time had come. What he did not say was where, how, or when the meeting was going to happen."

"I can handle the 'how,' and Dantooine is the 'where'. As for when, that will take time; a few months at least. If you were join us, you would offer a great deal of insight into our enemy."

"I will have to draw them out again to learn more about them, but it can be done."

"Then I wish you good luck in your travels." Zez Kai-Ell bowed and turned.

"You are leaving now?"

"It will take time to alert the Jedi in hiding. I cannot afford to wait."

"Then I bid you good luck , Master Kai-Ell," Carver said with a bow. He watched the Jedi head back into the shadowed alley, and a dark half-grin appeared on his face. That was almost too easy. His grin faded slightly when he realized it _had_ almost seemed too easy. Regardless, Kai-Ell was beyond his influence now; all he could do at this point was move forward. Turning and motioning for the Huntress to follow him, he instinctively cracked his neck in anticipation of removing that damned collar around his neck and pulling on more familiar clothing.

* * *

-2 days later-

Silas grabbed the Handmaiden's wrist as she tried to land a punch. He spun around her, bringing her arm back with him. He wrapped his other arm around her neck and kicked out her left knee; the only thing keeping the Handmaiden up was the vice grip he had her in.

"You are coming close to violating the etiquette rituals," she said.

"You are just saying that because I am winning," he replied. He released his hold on her neck and threw her forward. She hit the ground rolling, came to her feet, and found Silas' fist centimeters from her face. "Match point."

"Concede," she said, rising. "You are improving, but you must remember to honor the rules of dueling."

"I will try to keep that in mind next time," said Silas. He picked up the outer layer of his robe and pulled it on. "We will be leaving in a several hours. I have sent the others out to gather supplies. Spare parts, weapons, provisions, credits; the essentials."

"I gather you have a mission for me as well."

"I do, but it is not a supply run. An ongoing dispute between two business rivals is threatening to escalate. The rivalry is polarizing the support of the locals, and it will not be long until violence breaks out."

"How does that affect our mission?"

"Nar Shaddaa may be a rough place, but their markets are ideal for…covert purchases. Out and out violence will wreck havoc on the local economy. We will eventually return to the Smuggler's Moon, and a stable environment is preferable to a chaotic one."

"I understand."

"Plus, lending aid will demonstrate our good intentions to them and possibly start a working partnership with some of the local businesses."

"And you believe I can accomplish this task in a matter of hours?"

Silas beamed at her. "Handmaiden, I have no doubt that you can."

"Very well," she said. As she started past him, a thought occurred to her. "What will you be doing?"

"The Huntress has yet to decide if she will join us," he answered. "We are going to discuss the possibilities."

"You want her to stay?"

"We spent the better part of our stay here tracking her down; I will not let her slip away now."

"I see," she said, breaking their gaze.

Silas gave her a half-grin. "Handmaiden, you continue to surprise me. My interest in the Huntress is not a personal one. I am merely going to unlock her potential; a potential very much like the kind I see in you."

"You think I am Force Sensitive?"

Silas canted his head slightly. "Your mother was a Jedi, so it is possible you can wield the Force to some extent. But, I do not think you're ready. There is something holding you back, preventing you from tapping your full potential, and it has been engrained into your beliefs."

"My beliefs?"

"If they are not your beliefs, then Atris is the one who put them there."

"If you are suggesting that I should turn away from my mistress, then…"

"Not at all, Handmaiden. If anything I am telling you to do a little introspection and see what you learn about yourself. You may find you do not know yourself as well as you think." He gave her a moment to take in his words. "But there will be time enough for such discoveries later. Right now, you have a job to do."

She nodded, opened the cargo door, and may her way towards the exit ramp.

Silas' smile widened. _I am so close to reaching her. So close. She wants to learn, I can see it in her eyes. I just need to put a little more emotional distance between her and Atris. _

"_A daunting task, to be sure," _Kreia's voice echoes in his head. _"Her loyalties may prove to be stronger than her mother's were."_

_Handmaiden's destiny is not to be a servant of Atris._

"_You think her destiny lies with you? Who are you to decide her fate?"_

_Her fate will be her own making, not mine. I cannot force her to walk my path; I can only offer her a choice of roads._

"_Just as you did with Atton? There was hardly a choice in the matter for him. And now there is a chance the Huntress will reject the path you want for her. Will she be the next victim of you aggressive persuasions?"_

_Are you suggesting my methods are wrong?_

"_Perhaps, perhaps not. I would advise caution; not everyone will respond positively to your forceful tactics."_

_Noted._

* * *

Silas did his best to drown out the background noise as he leaned against the wall. Normally, this kind of loitering did not go over well with the cantina's Feeorin bouncer, but thanks to a well-placed Force suggestion, Carver remained all but invisible to him. After several hours of waiting, his patience was rewarded when a leather-bound redhead strode confidently out the door, pockets laden with newly-acquired credits. "A bountiful night for you, Huntress?"

Mira wheeled around to face him, surprise playing across her face. "How did you know I was here?"

Carver gave her a half-grin. "It is my business to know where my crew are at all times."

She returned the grin and folded her arms. "I haven't joined your little band yet."

he pushed off the wall and approached her. "No, but I know you want to."

Mira didn't back up a centimeter as he neared. "You think so? Well, I don't."

"Hm." Silas simply walked past her. "Walk with me."

Mira hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out what he was up to. "Alright, but you better not try anything funny."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Mira was still following Silas through the streets; he hadn't spoken since the cantina. They had past the western business district when Silas finally stopped.

"So, what are we doing here?" she asked him.

Silas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Taking in the life of Nar Shaddaa," he answered.

"Okay," she said cautiously. "Is there some point I'm supposed to get?"

"You have lived here for so long, Mira, and yet you know so little about it."

"And you do?"

"I understood this place the moment I set foot here. I can feel the hope, the despair, the life, the death, all of it; it fills the air. Can you not feel it as well?"

"No...not really."

"Is that so? How about now?" He spun around, held up his hand, and made the Force echo still within her harmonize with the Force currents around her.

Instantly, Mira's head was filled with the emotions and voices of millions of people, and she clamped her hands over her ears in reflex. The sheer intensity of the noise was overwhelming; it felt like her head could burst at any moment.

"Impressive, is it not?" asked Malvolis, seemingly oblivious to the pain she was going through. He closed his eyes again and inhaled sharply. "To experience Nar Shaddaa on such a scale. It is magnificent."

"Make it stop!" she yelled, squeezing her head.

Malvolis gave her a quizzical look. "Stop? You cannot simply make it stop; not without killing everyone on the moon."

She shot him a furious stare. "You did this to me; now undo it!"

"I did not give you the ability to feel the Force, Mira," he replied, casually brushing aside the anger directed at him. "I have just unlocked it for you. It is up to you to harness it."

"It's too loud; I can't get the voices out of my head."

"Do not think of the Force as a single one sense, Mira; you can channel it any way you want." Malvolis balled his fist. "All you have to do is focus and," he opened his fist, "release it."

"I can't!"

"Yes you can. Just do it."

"I_ can't!_"

"You will!" Malvolis poured his will into Mira. The Huntress screamed in pain. "Do it! _Release it!_ _NOW!_"

Mira screamed again, and a Force shockwave radiated out from her. Malvolis fought to keep his balance as the front hit him. When the front hit the nearby buildings, the glass shattered and the walls dented. When the wave subsided, Mira dropped to her knees.

Malvolis smiled victoriously and began a slow, heavy clap. "Well done, Mira. Well done."

"What was…how did I…?"

He walked over to her and knelt down. "You harnessed the power within you," he said, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder. "The Force was always been a part of you, whether you knew it or not. It has helped you become the best bounty hunter on Nar Shaddaa, and it can help you be so much more."

"I can still hear the voices."

"Of course you do; I hear them as well. They are the heart of Nar Shaddaa; its people and their emotions."

"They're getting louder; how do I shut them up?"

"You cannot shut them out," he told her as he stood up. "Not here. You can only learn to keep the currents from overpowering you."

"Show me how."

Malvolis crossed his arms. "I cannot put my mission on hold long enough to teach you; your only choice is to come with me. But learning to control the voices is only the first step, Mira; there is an entire reservoir of power you have not even touched yet."

"I don't care about power."

_Bingo._ It was time to play his hand. "Of course you care. And, do you know why? Because somewhere, buried deep beneath that gun-slinging, smart-mouthed exterior, there is a wounded, broken child that was once a slave of Mandalorians. Remember what that was like? The lack of control, the loss of will. You fear being enslaved again; that feeling of powerlessness, it grips your soul. When you finally broke away from them and came to Nar Shaddaa, it was not to hunt, but to hide. I can teach you, Mira, to turn your fear into resolve, into strength that you can use to make sure your destiny is yours to own."

Mira was silent; that was always a good sign. Carver always enjoyed watching people silently debating with themselves. He learned to read the tells of successful persuasion: the emotions playing across their faces, the subtle twitches of various facial muscles; the rapid jumps of the eyes. To be fair, it was an acquired pleasure, one born from dozens of wartime negotiations. The Mandalorians were courteous enough to remove their helmets while they were surrendering. "You're right," said Mira, bringing Malvolis out of his thoughts. "I _am_ tired. I'm tired of running. I'm tired of looking over my shoulder. I'm tired of being hunted, of being someone else's prey."

"That is not the life you are destined for. To know the Force is to know strength and control. I can teach you how to wield them both."

"I want to be the one in control. If someone takes something from me or tries to hurt me, I want the power to make them pay."

Malvolis balled his fist. "Then stand, Mira. Fight the pain of the past and present. Stand up and show everyone that you _are_ the Huntress, and the galaxy is your hunting ground."

Mira pulled herself to her feet and looked Malvolis square in the eye. "Yes. I am ready; I shall not fail you."

A satisfied half-grin appeared on his face. "Good. Now let us depart this moon." As they headed back to the _Hawk_, Malvolis glanced skyward and his smile broadened.

* * *

High in orbit, Jedi Master Zez Kai-Ell's passenger transport prepared to jump to Chandrilla. As the dots turned to lines, he felt a shift in the Force. The feeling was subtle, a light pressure in his gut, and familiar. However, the fact that the shift was strong enough to punch through the Force currents was unnerving. He looked out the window and wondered just how big a mistake he may have made.

to be continued...

Author's End Notes: 1. When I finish chapter 5, I'll be updating chapter 1. I've added a bit more to the end, but it's not quite ready yet. And, i'll reveal the name of Silas' Third Order. 2.


	5. Jungle Tour

Disclaimer: The usual; don't own 'em, don't profit from 'em, blah, blah, blah.

Author's Note: This chapter is looking to be long, even for me, so I'm going to cut it. Also, I've made some noticeable editions towards the end of chapter 1. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 5: Jungle Tour

"How long can those two go at it?" asked Mira, walking into the cockpit. The oscillating blue lights of hyperspace illuminated the otherwise dark room.

"Well," answered Jaq, "since they graduated from fists to weapons, we might land on Onderon before they finish."

"They certainly have a lot stamina," Mira replied. A dull thud echoed into the cockpit.

"Stamina's not the only thing keeping them going."

"Really?"

They heard second thud, although it was softer than the first. "Oh yeah," said Jaq. "See, they used to just enjoy sparring. But recently, their matches have…changed." There was another thud. "They've gotten louder for one, and longer..much longer." And a fourth. "It's like they're out to prove something."

"I wonder what."

"Hell if I know." And a fifth. "I just hope I never have to interrupt 'em."

* * *

Silas let his boot slide off the wall and turned to face the Handmaiden as she rolled to her feet. He advanced toward her with a steady, determined stride, his red saber gripped tightly in his swinging right arm.

The Handmaiden settled into a tight defensive stance and angled the silver saber Silas let her use across her chest. The glowing blade illuminated her new Echani Heavy Armor, a gift from one of the Nar Shaddaa merchants for settling their dispute. "You are pushing etiquette again," she told him.

"Feel free to do the same," Silas replied. He spun his saber then brought it down hard in a two-handed swing; the impact forced her stance to compress further.

"The Echani do not need to bend the rules to win," she said. She recoiled his strike, knocking his blade to her right. Maintaining her momentum, she launched into a roundhouse kick.

Silas stepped back to avoid her, used the same momentum, and spun around; their blades made contact a spilt second later. "The Echani may not have to," he said, "but what about _you_?" He broke contact, righted his saber and swung.

The Handmaiden intercepted his attack. "I _am_ Echani."

"Are you sure?" Silas plowed forward. "You may have been raised by them, but that does not make you one of them."

The Handmaiden pushed back. The two close combatants locked eyes. "I warned you about speaking that way of my sisters."

"You have so much respect for them; a pity they do not reciprocate your feelings."

"They are my family."

"And you are their shame, a mark of betrayal. But you want to be more than that. You have turned your shame into a bar, a level of achievement you hope to one day reach and move beyond. But you will never overcome the shame of your birth as long you allow _them_ judge your progress."

"You will take back those words!"

"Deny that I am wrong. Deny that they still judge you, even after all these years, _last_ _of the handmaidens_. I fought them on Telos; they considered you a burden, a detriment to their fighting perfection." Silas tried to get around the Handmaiden's block, but a quick flick from the her blade stopped him. "And you would seek to earn their respect!" Saber horizontal, he changed the direction of his swing, but when the Handmaiden twisted to block, the impact dislodged both sabers form their owners' hands. As the blades skittered across the floor, they stood there, eyes locked.

"There is truth in your words," said the Handmaiden, "but what other choice do I have?"

"Find acceptance in others," answered Silas. "In those who do not care of the nature of your birth."

"Like you?"

"Yes!" he said, leaning in slightly.

"But I have sworn an oath…"

"…to those who would sooner condemn you for you actions before they praised them. You know the Echani, you know Atris, and now you know me. You know that I can unlock doors that were sealed by others. You have seen it with Jaq, with Mira, and even with Visas; they were walking paths they did not choose. I freed them from trapped existences, and now I am offering you the same. Stand with me and embrace you birthright."

"My birthright is Echani."

"Your birthright is the Force!" Silas held up his fist; arcs of electricity raced over his fingers. "There is more power flowing through the veins in your fingers than there is through all the muscles in your body! And you would let them rein that power?"

"You make it sound as if it will be easy for me to walk away from my vows."

"It can be, especially when what I am offering you is a clean slate. That is what you want, is it not? The ability to make your own choices, create your own path?"

"It is not a simple thing. One cannot run from their past, nor is it wise to try."

"And yet, that is exactly what you are doing. You are running and hiding from the fact that your mother was a Jedi and that you have the potential to go so much further than you have already."

"Taking that path would mean breaking my oath to Atris."

Malvolis pointed at the wall beside him. "Atris is half a galaxy away. It is no sin to choose your own way."

The Handmaiden was silent a moment. "I have no intentions of learning the ways of the Jedi."

Malvolis gave her a small smiled. "Convenient. For I have no intentions of teaching you the ways of the Jedi. But, there are things I _can_ teach you. Wielding the Force is not a gift reserved for the Jedi." He took a step forward. "Let me show you," he said in a lower tone. "Let me show you the power I can wield, the power I can share with you. Do not turn your back on what you are. Simply open your mind and add to it."

She gave him a hard stare. "If I were to break my oath to Atris, it would be the ultimate betrayal against her."

"And if you continued to slave your life to her wishes, it would be the ultimate betrayal against yourself."

She paused. "This is difficult for me to say, so I ask you to please let me speak without interruption. I do want to learn from you. I want to learn the ways of the Force like my mother did; I want the ability to forge my own path like my father did. I know he did not return from the Mandalorian Wars a broken man as Atris said, and neither did you. I do not believe her; I believe that, like my father, you chose to enter and leave the war. And like I did with my father, I care for you and wish to stand with you. Teach me to wield the Force."

Silas cocked his head. "You are willing to break your oath to Atris?"

The Handmaiden nodded. "I am. I will not serve her. I choose to follow you. I am the last of the handmaidens no longer. I am a disciple of the Third Order."

Silas drew closer to her, holding her in an embrace. "Then there is one more thing I want to ask," he said, voice softening.

"Yes?"

"What is your _real_ name?"

"_Betrayal."_

Silas lost his calm demeanor for a split-second when he heard the echo. _Kreia._

"Brianna."

Hearing the Handmaiden's real name at last, he put aside his suspicion, smiled warmly, and leaned closer. "Brianna…that is a lovely…"

"Greeting: Master, I have a message for you."

The pair grimaced and broke apart at the sound of the mechanical voice. Silas looked over to see the rusty-red assassin droid standing in front of the now-open cargo bay door. "_What_..is it, HK?" he asked with a scowl.

Seemingly oblivious to Silas' tone, HK responded. "Answer: The meatbag pilot wishes to tell you we have arrived at Onderon. He wants you to meet him in the cockpit."

"Jaq," Silas breathed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I am going to kill him."

"If you do," said Brianna with a smile, "who'll fly the ship?"

"We will make do," Silas answered steadily. He recalled his sabers and headed towards the door. "I am glad you made this decision, Brianna. We will finish what we started later." He gave her a genuine smile.

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

"This had better be important Jaq," said Silas, marching into the cockpit.

"Well, see for yourself," Jaq replied, gesturing to the window.

Silas looked out and saw rows of ships sitting in orbit across from what looked like Onderonian warships. "What is this? A blockade?"

"Maybe," said Jaq. "Looks like they're inspecting some of vessels entering the system."

"That's not good," said Mira. "If they inspect us, they may not like what they find. We may have a few too many weapons on board for their tastes."

"Can you get us through?" asked Silas.

"I could, but we'd enter the atmosphere in pieces," Jaq answered. The communications panel lit up. "We're being hailed…by a Colonel Tobin."

"_The _Ebon Hawk" he man on the other end said. "_I was told to expect your arrival. I don't know what you business is on Onderon, but it ends here._"

"I've got a bad feeling about where this is going," said Jaq. Warning sirens started ringing. "Agh, damn it; incoming fighters!"

"Move, Jaq; move!" ordered Silas. "Get us out of here!"

"On it," he replied. "Everybody hang on." He yanked the flight wheel, sending the _Hawk_ into a sharp climb. Lasers flew past the cockpit window as the fighters bore down on them. Jaq banked right, and the ship flew down the line of waiting ships.

"Jaq, try to keep the ship as steady as you can," said Silas.

"Where are you…?"

"I am not going to just let them shoot us. We are fighting back." Silas headed for the dorsal gun turret. The turret can alive seconds later and Silas started firing his first shots; the fighter pack fanned out and continued firing.

Then it happened.

One of the Onderonian fighters' volleys accidentally struck an armed heavy freighter. Seconds later, the freighter fired on an Onderonian warship which then returned fire on the freighters. Lasers and missiles began streaking across the picket line as the situation escalated into a full-blown battle. The Onderonian frigates had more firepower, but the freighters had numbers, and more than a few were illegally modified. And caught in the middle, the _Ebon Hawk_ desperately maneuvered to avoid the fighters still on her tail.

"_Why does everything have to be so damn difficult?_" shouted Jaq over the comm. "_This is ridiculous!_"

"Look at it this way," said Silas. "At least we are not at fault this time." He squeezed the trigger; bursts of laser fire traced the path of one of the fighters. He kept up his barrage until the shots finally caught up with the craft. Swiveling quickly, he zeroed in on the next fighter. A last-second maneuver by the enemy pilot saved him from a direct hit. One of the lasers clipped the fighter's wing, sending it into a spiral. One vector adjustment later, the craft was obliterated. Silas lost track of his next target as Jaq maneuvered around a freighter and was about to reacquire it when the ship lurched and cut a hard left. "I told you to keep the ship steady, Jaq!"

"I'm doing the best I can_,_" Jaq replied. "Feels like Peragus all over again_._" Lasers rattled the hull. "Our shields aren't going to last long. I'm plotting a jump out of here_._"

Silas picked off another fighter. "_No, we are not leaving._"

"What? Are yo-"

"_We are not leaving, Jaq! We cannot afford to_."

"We can't afford to stay, either!" There was another rumble. "And that wasn't a laser blast. Silas, what was that?"

"Incoming missiles! Pull up!" The _Hawk_'s nose tilted, giving Silas a chance to intercept one of the incoming projectiles. There were three left. He hit one more before they drifted out of his firing zone. "Nose up again, Jaq; hurry!" The missiles reappeared in time for Silas to pick off one more; the final missile struck the hull just forward of the port engine. Smoke started billowing out of the hole, and Silas' view became severely impaired.

"_We're losing power Silas; how's it look?_"

"Bad, and what is left of my scanners indicates more fighters inbound," said Silas. He killed the power to the turret and left the station.

"Well I guess that means the party's over," said Mira.

"Set us down on that moon," said Silas, re-entering the cockpit. "And see if you can give the _Hawk_ a little spin; it will look like we're losing control."

"That won't be too hard," said Jaq. "I'm fighting just to keep it."

"Well, let up a little; they will not going to follow us if they think we will not survive."

"And you think we will?" asked Jaq. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

* * *

The _Ebon Hawk_ plowed through the jungle moon's atmosphere leaving a trail of smoke behind it. Jaq managed to level the ship out above the tree line, and the crew scanned for an LZ.

"Not much room to park, is there?" asked Mira.

"Maybe not, but scanners are reading plenty of structures and downed ships in the area," said Jaq. "Someone calls, or called, this place home."

"There," said Silas, pointing at the window. "There is a clearing in that valley ahead."

"How can you tell?" asked Jaq.

"There is break in the tree line's profile," answered Silas. "It means there is nothing growing there. Not a big landing site, but it will do."

"All right, buckle up," said Jaq. "This'll be a little bumpy."

"Ever crash-land before?" asked Mira.

"In this ship?" Jaq replied. "No."

"You might want to slow down a little," she said.

"I've only got one working engine and a few maneuvering thrusters," said Jaq. "If I slow down any more, we won't make it to the clearing."

"Then how are you going to land this thing?"

"Just let me handle it." There was an echo of worry in Jaq's voice. As the _Hawk_ approached the clearing, his grip on the flight wheel tightened. "Here we go."

Jaq powered down starboard engine, and fired the port thrusters. This caused the _Hawk_ to go into a gliding, starboard spin while steadily dropping altitude. It smashed through the treetops and sailed into the valley. Once the ship was turned completely around, he brought the engine up to full power. There was a sudden loss of forward momentum, the spin halted, and the ship dropped to the ground. Jaq cut power to the engine and lowered the landing gear. A second later, the ship hit the ground with an audible bang.

"Piece of cake," said Jaq, wearing a satisfied grin.

"Okay. I'm going to go make sure everyone else is still alive," said Mira, getting up from the copilit's chair.

Barely five seconds after Mira disappeared, Kreia came marching into the cockpit. "Why is it you insist on turning every ship you fly into a disastrous wreck?"

"Hey," Jaq countered, "it's a miracle we even made it to the ground in one piece."

"Yes, a miracle indeed," she said.

Jaq was starting his comeback when Silas decided to intervene. "So now that we _have_ landed," he said, holding his hand up, "we need to turn our attention to taking off."

"Well, we're not going anywhere until the engines repaired, for one," said Jaq. "And to repair the engines, we need parts."

Silas activated the comlink. "Bao-Dur, you still conscious?"

"_Affirmative, General,_" replied the Iridonian.

"Good. Have all the rest of the crew meet us in the engine room." Silas turned to the others and motioned for them to follow.

* * *

"Damage report," Silas told Bao-Dur.

"Well, it's not as bad as the Telosian shuttle," replied Bao-Dur. "But it's going to take time."

"How much time?" asked Jaq.

"I don't know," answered Bao-Dur. "At least a week, two and a half if I'm careful."

"We saw some crash sites on our way down," said Silas. "Take Mira and T3; investigate the wrecks. Bring back any salvage you can carry: engine parts, bulkheads, generators,..warheads. This will not be the _Ebon Hawk_'s last fight."

"Right," said Bao-Dur. He turned to Mira. "Let's get the field packs and head out."

"Great," Mira replied. "A nature hike through an unknown jungle."

"You handled the artificial one well enough," said Silas. "Just remember the predators here walk on four legs." Bao-Dur and Mira headed to the cargo bay. "The rest of us are going to explore the buildings beyond the valley."

"Milord?" said Visas. "Would you allow me to undertake a solitary journey?"

"Solitary?" Silas asked. "Why?"

"I felt a strong Force presence as we landed; it seemed to draw the surrounding Force into itself."

"Was it alive?"

"I do not think so, but I wish to find out."

Silas thought for a moment. "Very well, but keep your guard up."

"Yes, Lord Malvolis."

"Right," said Silas. "Everyone else, grab your gear; we are leaving in five."

* * *

The jungle of the Onderon moon was deathly quiet as the group left the _Hawk_. Small, scattered fireballs streaked across the sky above them; signs that the battle still raged in orbit.

"Anyone else get the feeling this clearing is artificial?" asked Jaq, scanning the circular clearing.

"There _is_ something unnatural about it," said Brianna.

"That is because it is unnatural," said Carver. "This moon was once a battlefield."

"A battlefield?" said Brianna.

Silas nodded. "This is Dxun," he said, walking in front them. "One of the first battles of the Mandalorian Wars that I fought in. I lead a strike team against a Mandalorian camp here; we created this clearing as we landed." He pointed at a gap in the trees. "That trail leads to the camp. It's a ten-kilometer hike from here, so we should get going."

HK-47 suddenly moved past him, his focus turned to the sky. "Statement: Wait Master; we have incoming."

"Where?" asked Silas, turning to look in HK's direction.

HK kept his photoreceptors locked onto the airborne target. "Answer: six point five kilometers away; approximately zero point seven kilometers from the ground. The profile of the object suggests it is a Duros cargo vessel."

"Are they headed for us?"

"Answer: Negative, Master. They are headed for the ground. Their vessel has reached terminal velocity and will crash in 4.5 seconds."

"Probability of survivors?"

The distant echo of the impact filled the clearing, scattering the birds in the area. "Statement: I calculate the odds of survival at 33.3 percent, Master, and I hope you will allow me to finish them off."

Carver turned to face the droid. "You?"

"Statement: Oh yes, Master. No doubt the survivors know that we have also landed and will try to seize our vessel."

"You really believe they have hostile intentions?"

"Answer: I can only hope, Master."

Carver chuckled. "Alright, plot their trajectory and crash site coordinates."

"Statement: Yes, Master. Calculating crash zone…adjusting for impact inertia and environmental obstructions…Statement: I have the likely coordinates, Master."

"Good. Take Jaq and deal with them as you seem fit. Contact me when you're finished."

"Acknowledgement: With pleasure, Master."

"Wait, hang on," said Jaq. "Why me?"

"Because you two always seem to be at odds; that has to end…today."

Jaq scoffed, looked at HK, then back at Silas; there was a cold seriousness in Carver's eyes. "Fine," said Jaq. He turned towards the jungle. "Let's go Tin Man."

"Correction: I am made of rust-tinted Durasteel, not tin," said HK, starting after him.

Once they were out of sight, Silas couldn't help but laugh. "Those two," he said. "They will either learn to work together or end up killing each other."

"Both of those outcomes have advantages," said Brianna, arms crossed.

Silas gave her a raised eyebrow, smiled, then motioned for her and Kreia to follow.

* * *

Just over an hour into their trek, the group ran into a large group of cannoks and maalraas fighting over territory.

"Should we go around them, or wait and watch?" asked Brianna.

"Both options risk us being seen," said Silas. "They may just be beasts, but they have a distinct numerical advantage."

"Then perhaps we should thin the herds," said Kreia. Reaching out, she froze several cannoks and maalraas, making them easy prey for their opponents.

"I like the way you think, Kreia," said Silas. He too, reached out with the Force. Closing his fist, one of the maalraas began to gag and choke; a cannok grabbed its neck in its jaws and bit down. Silas held up two fingers on his left hand, and the cannok's pace slowed nearly to a halt; a vengeful maalraas pounced and pulled it to the ground. Silas then turned to Brianna and smiled. "It is time for a lesson."

"Now?" she asked.

Carver nodded. "No better time than the present. And we have plenty of targets for you to choose from."

"She will have to unlearn the mental techniques that blinded her to the Force," said Kreia.

"Your instincts can help you," Carver told Brianna. "Relax and let your breathing become reflex. Let your instincts shape your perceptions." Brianna closed her eyes. "Calm your mind, and let the beasts reveal themselves to you."

"I can hear them, but only barely."

"You are still relying on your old techniques," replied Carver. "You have to retrain your senses. Don't worry about pinpointing the beasts; just be aware of their presence."

"I understand," she said.

"Now, listen to the sounds of the predators: their grunts, their growls, their movements."

"Yes."

"Each sound produces a wave, an echo, that ripples out. Each wave carries with it information about its source: height, weight, motion, demeanor. Use that information to see one of the creatures."

"I can see one; a cannok. It's movements are irregular; one of it's legs is wounded."

"Good. But to use the Force is to understand the difference between thought, act, and the link between them. The cannok you see is a thought; it has no substance and can only be manipulated in your mind. An act is an exertion of your will through the Force. Sometimes, your thoughts can be used to direct your will onto others; other times, your thoughts can direct your will to harness the Force itself."

"I understand."

"Good. Now, in your mind, visualize a hand."

"I see it."

"This hand represents your directed will on the Force. It is a basic mental tool used to instruct younglings, but it will help you to focus your thoughts and commands through the Force until the process becomes second nature to you. Now, concentrate on the cannok, and instruct the hand to raise it."

Brianna concentrated on her target, but the cannok remained on the ground. "I can't grab it; the hand just goes through it."

"I did not say _grab_ the cannok; I said _lift_ it. Remember, the hand is just a thought, a tool. Do not think about the steps or processes, just visualize what you want to happen."

"All right." Brianna refocused on the cannok. Several seconds later, the beast rose just over two centimeters off the ground and shrieked; the piercing wail broke Brianna's concentration, and it dropped back down.

"Not bad for your first try," said Silas. "But you must learn to cope with surprises and distractions, to divide your attention without losing focus. Now try again."

* * *

_Why did Silas think this would be a good idea?_ thought Jaq as he trailed the assassin droid. Their hike through the jungle had been fairly quiet; Jaq had almost gotten to the point of enjoying it. Up until half an hour ago when HK walked through a cluster of vines and into a tree branch. Jaq would have found the whole thing funny had the droid not taken that opportunity to start a rant that showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. _If he doesn't shut up, one of us isn't going to survive this mission._

"…bother shooting something that can't even acknowledge pain? That is the only thing keeping me from blasting every organic specimen in the immediate vicinity: no auditory satisfaction. Meatbags scream when I shoot them, and I know they are in pain. But the squeaks and squeals of primitives can mean…"

_Why won't he stop?_ Jaq though, rubbing his hand over his temple._ Now _I'm_ beginning to hate this place. Great, that'd mean we'd actually have something in common. No, I won't let that happen. No, I like forests; I like forests; I like forests; I like..._

"…designed for this kind of environment. I am an assassin droid of unrivaled sophistication; my element is an urban location or wide, open field where I can eliminate my target with precision and ease. In this mud-encrusted…"

_Ugh, don't droids have a volume dial or a mute switch somewhere? If I could just deactivate him for five minutes, just five. Or better yet, an hour; that would be paradise._

"Query: Meatbag?"

_An hour of peace and quiet._

"Repetition: Meatbag?"

_An hour free of that incessant..._

"Repetition: Meatbag?"

"What?"

"Rhetorical query: You haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you?"

"No, I haven't. Thanks for noticing."

"Admission: I do not believe I will be able to accomplish my mission at this rate."

"Somehow, I fail to see how my ignoring you has anything to do with our Duros problem, a problem that may or may not be real I might add."

"Correction: I was not referring to the Duros."

"Oh, yeah?" said Jaq. "That what mission are you referring to?"

HK paused for a moment. "Answer: You."

"Me?"

"Affirmation: Yes; you."

"What are you…?"

"Answer: My master gave me instructions to 'bury the hatchet' with you. At first I was excited by this prospect; but then he informed me he was only speaking in metaphor." Jaq muttered something under his breath. "Statement: Nevertheless, I am still determined to carry out this mission."

"And you thought talking my ears off would make us friends?"

"Answer: Physical harm was not my intent this time; I was only trying to engage you in conversation."

"If you want to have a conversation with anyone, you have to: one, find something that everyone wants to talk about; two, make sure the people you're talking to actually _want_ to talk back; and three, give everyone enough time to say something. Us non-droids need more than a split-second to jump in and say something."

"Rhetorical query: Like you are now?"

"Yeah; exactly. Like I am…" The realization hit him. "Wait a minute; you planned this."

"Hesitant query: Uhh…does this mean the hatchet has been buried?"

_If I could just bury it in your head. _"Why don't you just accept our mutual disdain for each other and leave it at that?"

"Answer: Because mutual disdain is not an acceptable outcome."

Jaq started walking again. "I don't care; we're not talking about this anymore."

"Concession: Very well. How about we talk about our days killing Jedi meatbags?"

Jaq froze. "If I even wanted to talk about that, you are the _last_ person/droid I'd share it with."

"Inciting statement: I expect such a response from you. Heated, defensive responses are often indicative of being caught in a lie."

"A lie?"

"Explanation: Oh, yes. It was my master who suggested you killed Jedi; the idea of a meatbag like you taking down a Jedi was humorous, borderline ridiculous. I knew it couldn't be true."

"I'll save you the trouble of goading me into talking, and simply say yeah, I did. I killed Jedi; I killed the ones who wouldn't convert. Satisfied?"

"Query: Really? So did you enjoy your work?"

Jaq sighed. "You don't plan on shutting up, do you?"

"Answer: No."

"And will you promise to shut up when you're done asking questions?"

"Answer: Yes."

Jaq thought for a moment, then started walking again. "Alright, fine. You want to know if I had fun being a Jedi Hunter? Yeah, I suppose a part of me did. I was doing my part to rid the galaxy of Jedi hypocrisy."

"Rhetorical: But you converted more Jedi than you killed."

"I killed plenty. But it was much more rewarding when we converted them. And even though Jedi were our main targets, their padawans were much easier to snare. The younger ones were always a bit more volatile than their masters, more willing to give in. And if you can rile them enough, they'll forget all about that code of theirs."

"Opinion: I always preferred the more direct methods; the ones with permanent solutions. Psychological warfare, while effective, requires more time than I'd care to spend with any one meatbag. It is much easier to simply put a target out of everyone's misery than to try and reason with it. But then, Revan did say that I would need to be organic to fully appreciate the outcome of conversion."

"It was that moment when your enemy stopped fighting you, when they finally gave in and told you you'd been right all along. It made all our efforts worth while, and every one of us lived for that moment."

HK came to a halt and drew his blasters. "Interjection: Hold that thought; we are approaching the crash site."

"Well then, let's find out what we're dealing with," said Jaq.

Just beyond the next row of bushes was the crashed Duros vessel. The rear of the ship was hooked around the base of a thick tree and the other end was buried under a mound of soil. But there were survivors; they were milling around just outside the ruined hulk, and they were all carrying assault rifles.

"Annoyed statement: I don't understand, there should be more survivors," said HK.

"There are five of 'em," said Jaq. "Why is that a problem?"

"Answer: A vessel of that size usually has a crew compliment of 6 and carries 12 passengers; a total meatbag capacity of 18. I calculated the survival rate to be 33.3 percent, but only 27.7 percent actually did."

"Wait, you're ticked because your math was off?"

"Irritated statement: I am an assassin droid of…"

"…'unrivaled sophistication,' yeah I know."

"Indignant query: Then how do you think I feel about being off in my calculations by a full 5.6 percent? Just imagine of the ramifications."

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Let's just deal with the Duros and get back to the others. Okay?"

"Resignation: Very well. How do we proceed?"

* * *

"This is bad," said one of the Duros looking at the wreck. "Very bad."

"This is also your fault," said another.

"I wasn't the one flying the ship," said the first.

"But it was your idea to follow them from Nar Shaddaa," said a third.

"I didn't hear you coming up with anything," replied the first.

"Well here's one: we don't listen to you anymore," said the third.

"So how do _you _plan to get us off this moon?" asked the second.

"I say we find the targets, neutralize them, and fly their ship out," said the third.

"Their ship was shot down too, stupid, and we don't even know where…" A pair of blaster shots slammed against the side of his head, dropping him.

"Bok!" yelled the first. As he ran towards his dead brother, another pair caught of shots him in the chest.

The other two Duros who had been watching the squabble saw where the shots came from, and one of them threw a thermal detonator towards the bushes. However, as the grenade left his hands, it stopped and simply floated in the air in front of them. The Duro that threw the detonator carefully reached out to grab it and almost had it in his hand when the grenade exploded.

* * *

"Opinion: Nice touch," said HK.

"Only two left," said Jaq. "I'll handle them." He activated his red double-blade and left the cover of the bushes. Both Duros immediately started firing on him, but a few quick swings of his saber sent the shots hurtling towards the Duro to his left. Quickly turning his attention to the Duro in front of him, Jaq extended his hand and grabbed the alien's throat with the Force. He watched with unblinking eyes as the it gagged and writhed for nearly a minute before it finally collapsed to the ground. Unclenching his fist and exhaling, he turned to find HK heading towards the wreck. "Where are you going?"

"Answer: To find my missing 5.6 percent," the droid replied, then disappeared inside.

Jaq started to follow HK, but his comlink went off. "I'm here."

"_Jaq, what is your status?_" asked Silas.

"Just finishing up here. We found the Duros; they didn't put up too much of a fight."

"_Casualties?_"

"Five, but HK thinks there's more inside." The sound of a blaster shot echoed from the hatch behind him. "Looks like he was right."

"_When you are done, rendezvous on my beacon._"

Jaq detected a sense of urgency in Silas' order. "Something up?"

"_We have found the body of a dead Mandalorian, and it is not a relic from the war. It is entirely possible they still call this moon home._"

to be continued...


	6. Yesterday's Enemy

Disclaimer: Just so we're clear, I still don't own any of these characters.

Author's Note: Okay, this chapter was also starting to run long, so I'm screwing the whole 2-parter thing and just writing 3 chapters. Enjoy it and review it.

Chapter 6: Yesterday's Enemy

"So, how long you think he's been dead?" asked Jaq, looking down at the Mandalorian corpse.

"About a week," answered Silas. "Give or take a few days."

"And you think there's more where he came from?" Jaq asked.

"A Mandalorian wearing battle armor is never alone."

"But a dead Mandalorian isn't usually left behind."

"Maybe they do not know he's dead," said Brianna.

"Hm. A scout," said Silas. "Or a dishonorable death."

"Do the others know about this?" asked Jaq.

Silas nodded. "I contacted Bao-Dur and Mira right after you, but Visas did not take her comlink with her."

"We should continue forward," said Kreia, "lest the Mandalorians stumble across us before we stumble across them."

* * *

As the group wove through the jungle, Silas couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, missing. It took him twenty more minutes of uneventful hiking to discover the cause of his unease: they hadn't seen any predators since they hooked up with Jaq and HK. Dxun was known for its aggressive and dangerous predators; a decade earlier, his raiding party had several up-close and personal encounters with them. The cannoks and maalraas had been easy to fend off; it was the boma attacks that gave them the most trouble. The most unfortunate victim of a boma attack was a lieutenant who had decided the rear of the group was the safest place to be. He was wrong. A young boma leapt from the forest cover to tackle him. Before reaching adult size, young bomas were surprisingly fast and lithe. The man jumped back to avoid the attack, but not far enough. Instead of landing on him and biting his neck, the boma's jaws got a firm grip on the soldier's groin. The cries of the lieutenant sounded almost feral. Larger bomas emerged from the jungle between the young boma and the group, cutting them off from their downed man. Surrounded but shooting, some of his soldiers could watch and others only listen as the screaming man was dragged backwards into the jungle. _What a way to go. To say the Mandalorian Wars were ugly and complicated would be like saying a Hutt has a minor weight problem. But we all had our part to play._

Silas was brought back into the present by another wave of unease. Scanning the surrounding jungle, he fought to keep his expression from betraying his growing anxiety. The small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, confirming what his instincts were telling him; the Mandalorians had found them.

"Drop your weapons, Jedi!" came a voice from above them.

_In the trees._ Silas turned and hurled his lightsaber at one of the tree's branches. A half-second after the branch hit the ground, a Mandalorian lying on his back decloaked. But he wasn't alone; they were soon surrounded by no less than six rifle-wielding, armored warriors. Everyone in the group drew their weapons and prepared to strike, everyone except Kreia.

"Put away your weapons, Jedi," said the Mandalorian captain. "We have orders to take you to our leader."

Silas smirked and dropped into an Soresu stance, ready to take them on.

"Do as they say," said Kreia.

Silas shot Kreia a look of confusion. "What?" Kreia simply looked back at him. Silas turned back towards the Mandalorian captain and looked him square in the faceplate. After several seconds, he deactivated his sabers.

"What are you doing?" asked Jaq.

"Do it," Silas said.

Jaq hesitated.

"Stand down," Silas ordered. "All of you." The group complied. "Your soldiers too," he told the captain.

The captain held up his hand, and the Mandalorians put down their rifles. "Come with us, Jedi."

* * *

Walking into the Mandalorian camp, Silas hardly recognized it as the stronghold he had stormed a decade before. What was once a solid perimeter wall was now cracked, warped, and crudely patched. The base seemed to have been invaded again, this time by the jungle itself. Vines scaled the buildings, branches wound through holes in every structure, and the grass grew unchecked. But there was one thing about the base that hadn't changed: the Mandalorians were still fighting.

"This place has certainly seen better days," said Brianna.

"So have the Mandalorians," Jaq told her. "I don't think they can be picky anymore about where they want to call home."

They were led into what used to be the central command building. There was a still-functioning computer on the far side under a wall-sized digital map of the surrounding jungle. And working diligently at the computer was a man in a suit of Mandalorian armor Silas had never seen before.

"Mandalore, I have the intruders," said the captain.

The black and silver-armored Mandalorian turned to face the group. Two tubes extended from the base of the helmet, under the armpits, to the inside of the back plate. They looked like breathing tubes, which could mean the suit was vacuum sealed and had extensive climate controls. Silas could only guess, however, as to the other combat enhancements and protections the suit offered. But the armor wasn't the only thing about this Mandalorian that Silas found curious.

"Good work, Cavok. You can return to your post," said the Mandalorian. After the captain saluted and left, the other Mandalorian turned to Silas. "So you're the ones wondering around in the jungle. I have to congratulate you for making it as far as you have; the jungle doesn't usually like newcomers."

"He called you 'Mandalore'," said Silas. "That is not possible. Revan killed Mandalore."

"Mandalore is the name of our leader. Earning the title of Mandalore is the highest honor possible for any Mandalorian, and when one Mandalore falls, only the most worthy can take his place. In this case, that was me."

"Well Mandalore, as long as we are introducing ourselves, I am Silas Carver, and these are some of my…associates." He gestured to his companions. "Jaq, Brianna, Kreia, and my droid HK-47."

Mandalore's gaze shot to the droid after hearing the designation. "You have an assassin droid with you?"

"He comes in handy from time to time."

"Correction: My ability to rend meatbags of their lives has proven essential on more than just a few random instances," said HK.

"Hm. My mistake," said Silas with a grin.

"Did that droid just say…?" Mandalore trailed off.

"'Meatbag'?" said Silas. "One of his more unique programming quirks. You get used to it after a while." Silas didn't dare try to probe Mandalore's mind, but on the surface he could sense that something about HK was distracting the clan leader. He was able to pick up a few of the more overt images: Taris, a Republic soldier, Tatooine, Korriban, and…Revan? Silas found himself once again having to fight to maintain his current expression. What did this Mandalorian know about Revan? Had they met? And where? _True the Mandalorians had laid siege to Taris, and there were Jedi on the planet at the time, but Revan wasn't among them. Neither Tatooine nor Korriban were battlefields, so how..._ Silas put a check on his curiosity; it was time to get their conversation back on track. "So Mandalore, now that the introductions are over, I am curious as to what you plan to do with your title. The clans are not exactly what they once were."

Mandalore finally returned his gaze to Silas. "The..clans may be scattered, but we're still alive; alive and rebuilding."

"I wouldn't call mercenary work 'rebuilding,'" said Jaq.

"Many Mandalorians have lost their way, but I will change that," said Mandalore. "Under my rule, the clans will rise again and their glory will be restored."

"And this is the place you chose to begin rebuilding?" asked Silas.

"You have to start somewhere," Mandalore replied, "and we Mandalorians have a rapport with Dxun. This base used to be the staging point for the Mandalorian war effort. It may not be what it once was, but it has its advantages."

"And you are not worried about being discovered?"

"We don't get many visitors from Onderon; the beasts are effective deterrents."

"Speaking of Onderon, I have been trying to get there."

"You and a lot of others."

"Including yourself?"

"Not really. My ship is fast enough to run the blockade."

"And how much would it cost me to borrow it?"

"My ship doesn't go anywhere without me, but I'd be willing to take you, if you're worthy enough."

Silas raised his eyebrow at the comment. "Worthy enough?"

"Iziz can be a dangerous place, especially now with the threat of civil war breaking out. You look like you can handle yourself pretty well, but I need to be sure you won't be a liability."

Silas chuckled. "Now there is a word I have not been called in a long time."

"Good," replied Mandalore. "Then you should have no problems making yourself useful."

"Any suggestions on where to start?"

"Other than asking around? Well, there is one thing; we had uncovered a weapons cache in the jungle and were preparing to detonate the demo charges when the commotion in space started. We had to abandon the operation, so the charges still need to be detonated."

"Just push a button?" asked Jaq. "Why does that sound too easy?"

"You wanted to know, so I told you," said Mandalore. "But in the jungle, nothing is simple."

"Very well," said Silas. "But you better hold up your end of the bargain."

Mandalore chuckled. "I'm the least of your worries here, Jedi."

Silas turned to leave, then stopped. "One more thing; do not call me or the others 'Jedi'."

"You use the Force; you carry lightsabers; you're a Jedi. I don't care which side you're fighting on."

"Hm." Silas and the others exited the command center.

Once he was confident they had put enough distance between them and the building, Jaq turned to their leader. "I can't believe you agreed to work for the Mandalorians."

"We are not working for them," countered Silas. "We are just playing by their rules for a while."

"He was right about one thing; we do have lightsabers. We could just kill them all and take the shuttle."

"And assuming we would even survive the attempt, why go through all the trouble to make an enemy when we could take a few steps and gain an ally, a useful and expendable one at that."

"You do not think we can trust them?" asked Brianna.

"It is too soon to tell," answered Silas. He scanned the surroundings to make sure they were still out of earshot. "For the moment, they have a decent amount of leverage. But, we may need a backup plan if things start looking questionable."

"So what's plan A?" asked Jaq.

"We follow the Mandalore's advice. Split up and explore the camp."

* * *

Following Silas' advice, Jaq and HK broke off from the group. Kreia and Brianna, however, decided to stick around. Heading deeper into the camp, the trio came upon several Mandalorians clustered around a dirt circle. Inside the circle, two Mandalorian recruits were finishing a sword fight. The group's approach caught the attention of the Mandalorian sergeant.

"So, the Jedi comes to grace us," said the sergeant. "This is the battle circle, and it's reserved only for _real_ warriors."

"'Real warriors'?" said Silas, smiling and crossing his arms. "Hm. I guess that means I sit this one out." He canted his head towards Brianna. "Brianna, why don't you entertain our new friends?"

"Me?" she asked.

"If it is not too much trouble," Silas replied.

A half-smile appeared on Brianna's face. "Very well." She advanced on the Mandalorian sergeant. "I will fight in the battle circle."

The sergeant was surprised for a moment at Brianna's declaration. "If you're sure, then step into the ring." He watched Brianna head towards the circle. "A new challenger has arrived," he announced. "Who will face her in combat?"

"I will face her," one of them said as he stepped into the ring.

"Davrel has answered the challenge," said the sergeant. "The rules for this battle are fists and feet only. No weapons and no Jedi tricks."

Silas allowed a half-grin to appear on his face; he expected a quick battle.

"And remember, no death blows," said the sergeant. "Now begin."

Both combatants traced the perimeter of the circle until they were on the opposite side from where they had started. Then Brianna took a step forward and gave the Mandalorian the "come and get me" hand wave. Davrel was more than willing to comply. Brianna studied the charging Mandalorian, and her brow furrowed; was he serious? In all her years of training, she had never seen anything so…so…pathetic. His footwork was sloppy, his stance was too tight, and he didn't seem to be ready to put up any kind of defense. There was only one thing she could think to do.

Davrel was eager, perhaps a little too eager, to prove he was a real Mandalorian warrior. Finally rushing into a battle, his head was filling with pride. He had been the first to accept the opponent's challenge, and now he was going to overwhelm this little girl with sheer brute force. It was going to be quick, it was going to be painful, it was…not going to happen. Just as he was throwing his first punch, a fist seized his, an armored boot slammed into his gut, and a second boot struck his left temple. The second impact hit him with enough force to topple him sideways. As he fell, Davrel could feel the boot moving past his chin, and when he hit the ground, he was stuck under the weight of a powerful leg pressing against his windpipe.

The battle circle was quiet. No one cheered or chided; helmets concealed dropped jaws and staring eyes. Even Silas Carver stood silent and still; his smile vanished after seeing Brianna's goading gesture. His eyebrows furrowed at the first impact, raised when the combatants hit the ground, then settled into a comfortable position as he awaited the referee's call.

"The match between the new challenger and Davrel is over," the sergeant finally spoke. "The challenger is the victor by submission chokehold."

Only then did Brianna let go and step off of her prone opponent. She spared Davrel a final glance as he got back on his feet but noted the string of barely-audible curses that followed shortly after. While she reveled in her victory, it had felt hollow…until she realized how much damage she had done to the Davrel's ego. She smiled; perhaps she had accomplished something after all. When Davrel cleared the circle, the sergeant spoke up again.

"Is there anyone else who wishes to face the new challenger?"

"Brianna," she informed the sergeant.

Another Mandalorian approached. "Joz has accepted _Brianna_'s challenge," said the sergeant. "The rules for this fight remain as before."

Silas turned to Brianna. "Kreia and I must continue on so I am counting on you to show these Mandalorians how to truly fight."

Brianna nodded and returned to the battle circle, casting one last backwards look at Silas as he and Kreia headed away from the dirt ring.

* * *

As the sounds of combat behind him grew faint, movement in the sky tractored Silas' full attention. Squinting for a moment, he could just make out a faint column of smoke rising from behind the buildings ahead. _Interesting place for a campfire. Hmm, I wonder..._ His interest was piqued further when the source of the smoke came into view: a rooftop generator next to an antenna array of some sort. There were also two Mandalorians up there working on the generator. Silas grinned slightly when he noticed that only one of the pair, the blue one, was actually on his knees working to fix the generator; the one in red was merely standing and pointing. Then the second Mandalorian waved his hand and signaled to a group of four Mandalorians on the ground nearby who were milling around a console. Silas had barely gotten within earshot when one of the Mandalorians on the ground decided to try something.

"Alright everyone, stand back!"

Smartly, the others around him took several steps backward. Seconds later, a shower of sparks burst from a conduit cable running from the console to the generator. Half a second after that, another explosion of sparks erupted from the generator itself. The two Mandalorians dove to avoid the spray; the one in blue jumped a little too far in the wrong direction. Fortunately, he was spared a four-story drop when the red Mandalorian seized his ankle and swung him into the window he was facing.

"Dammit Azgen, are you trying to commit suicide?!" shouted the Mandalorian at the console. "What part of 'stand back' didn't you understand?"

The blue Mandalorian leaned out of the window. "I don't need to try to kill myself with you in charge, Zuka!" Azgen yelled back. "What were you thinking doing a full-power test so soon?"

"I'm not in the mood for any of your crap today, Azgen," said Zuka, pointing a finger at him. "You weren't supposed to give me the go-ahead until you were sure the generator could handle the load. It's got a threshold, and if I don't give it enough power, it won't activate."

"Zuka, there is a _big_ difference between a threshold and an overload."

"Uh, I don't think we'll be worrying about either for a while," said the red Mandalorian. He had returned to the generator to get a look at the damage. "This thing's cooked well done."

"Dammit!" shouted Zuka. He kicked the console in front of him. "You two get back to work, and make sure you do it right this time!"

"Problem?" asked Silas, strolling up to Zuka.

Zuka didn't bother turning around. "Well, aren't you a master of the obvious." He opened up the console then looked towards a Mandalorian to his left. "I need cutters and extra wiring." The other Mandalorian nodded and headed inside the building.

Silas looked up and scrutinized the antenna array. "Trying to bolster your scanning radius?" he asked.

Zuka finally gave Silas a sideways glace. "I was," he said. Then he looked up at Azgen, who had returned to the roof. "Until I let some idiot touch the power generator!"

"Agh screw you, cannok bait!" yelled Azgen, throwing Zuka a colorful gesture. "This is your fault!"

"Azgen, you are damned lucky you're not worth the effort I'd need to strangle you," shouted Zuka.

"A fact that I'm very proud of, Chief!" retorted Azgen with a salute.

Zuka buried his helmet visor into his armored glove with a groan. A soft chuckle coming from behind reminded him of the dark-robed man's presence. "You still here?"

"Mm-hm. And how long I stay depends on what needs to be done," said Silas.

Zuka turned around. Although not visible, Zuka's mouth was slightly agape and his eyebrows were furrowed. "What?"

"I said, 'how long I stay depends on what needs to be done.'"

For some reason, Zuka was having problems wrapping his head around what was coming out of this tattoo-faced man's mouth. "You..want to help?"

"If that is what you require."

"You don't seem like the type who likes to offer help."

"I am usually not. But in this case, Mandalore and I have an arrangement: I provide him with assistance, he provides me with transportation."

"Oh, I get it," said Zuka with a nod. The Mandalorian he sent into the warehouse returned with the items as instructed. Zuka relieved him, and started working on the console again. "Well, as you can see, we're trying to get our main scanners back online. It's been a pressing concern ever since we re-established our base here, but now it's even more critical that we repair it. That battle in orbit caused quite a fuss, and while our shuttle's sensors managed to pick up three ships crashing into the jungle, we need to be sure there aren't any others we missed."

"Three ships?"

"Yep," he said, pulling on a bundle of wires. "Yours, a Duros vessel, and one more. It wasn't in range long enough to identify. To find it again, we'll need the main array functional, but that isn't going to be easy because whatever parts we have that aren't corroded or have been chewed on are still a decade old. And on top of everything else, we now have to rig the tracking computer to work without a phase-pulse converter."

"Why?"

Zuka gave him a sideways glace. "Because we don't have one."

Silas felt a twinge of impatience at the Mandalorian's remark. "Phase-pulse converters are not exactly optional equipment. What happened to it?"

Zuka let out a sigh. "Damn cannoks got it."

Silas winced. "You have my sympathies." Impulsive and indiscriminate, a cannok would eat anything it could get its mouth around. Some soldiers claimed they had seen cannoks swallow blaster pistols, even grenades.

"I'd prefer another converter."

"How long ago was it lost?" asked Kreia.

Turning to bring her into view, Silas was surprised and intrigued by his mentor. A woman of few words, Kreia never spoke on a whim; there was always a reason beyond just gathering information. That fact had become increasingly clear since the events in Dantooine's crystal caves.

"Not that long ago," answered Zuka. "The original converter started malfunctioning a couple of weeks ago, so we had to replace it. Fortunately, we found one in an old Republic weapon's cache. We had just finished loading the supplies onto haulers when we decided to make one more sweep. You can guess what we saw when we came back out."

"If it has been only a matter of weeks," said Kreia, "then there is a possibility the converter may still be recoverable."

"Recoverable?" repeated Zuka. "Lady, are you barking mad? Do you have any idea how many cannoks there are out there or how much jungle you'd have to cover to find them all?"

"We wouldn't need to locate _all_ of them," Kreia replied. "Just the one or ones that have consumed the converter."

"Wonderful logic; very insightful," said Zuka sarcastically. "Just one question: how in bloody hell are we supposed to do that?"

The answer hit Silas like a Gammorean battle hammer. "HK."

Kreia went silent again.

"Who?" asked Zuka.

"Our droid," answered Silas. "He would not have much trouble tracking down something metallic in this organic environment."

"It would still take him days to find it," said Zuka.

"I doubt he would care," replied Silas. "He likes missions. And you do want your converter back, do you not?"

Zuka couldn't argue with that. "All right then. You find that converter, and I'll put in a good word to Mandalore."

Silas had another thought. "Is there anything else that need to be done to repair the array?"

"Plenty. Besides the generator, the tracking computer needs to be reprogrammed, there are wiring problems, burnt out data storage hubs, the secondary dish servos are locked; the list goes on. Why? You good with a spanner?"

"No, but I know someone who is," said Silas. _I just hope he is willing to forget the past for the foreseeable future._

"We'll take all the help we can get."

"We'll have to escort back from our ship. Hopefully we will return before nightfall." Silas and Kreia started back the way they came.

Zuka turned back to his console, but not before checking to see how work on the generator was progressing. "Dammit Azgen, get back to work!"

"All right, all right; I'm going, I'm going!" yelled Azgen, sliding off his perch on the window sill. His next utterance wasn't nearly as loud. "You whiny little fierfek."

* * *

"_I can't believe you agreed to this,_" said Bao-Dur over the comlink.

"We are hard-pressed for options, Bao-Dur," countered Silas. He looked around to make sure he was still out of range of Mandalorian ears. "Our situation is not entirely favorable at the moment, but it _is_ workable."

"_And how do you know they'll hold up their end of the bargain?_"

"I do not. But there is something about this Mandalore that tells me he's reliable."

"_I don't like this._"

"I am not asking you to like it; I am asking you to _do __it_."

"_...Fine._"

"Good. Keep working on the engines until we arrive." Silas paused. "By the way, what's Mira doing?"

"_She's building a lightsaber._"

"Really?"

"_Yeah. It's going to be unique, I can tell you that._"

"We will leave her to her work, then. Be ready for us."

"_Roger that, General. Bao-Dur out._" The link went dead.

Carver exhaled. "It seems I still need to fine-tune Bao-Dur's moral compass."

"You know," said Kreia. "And it may not be long before he realizes it."

Carver shook his head. "No. He cannot; not before he is ready."

"You cannot hide it from him forever, especially with events unfolding as they are."

"If he finds out too soon, he could undermine everything."

"Are you prepared to take steps against this potential threat?"

Carver looked beyond his mentor for a minute, then returned his gaze to her. "Let us just hope it does not come to that."

* * *

The first place of interest Jaq found was the quartermaster's shop, a fact the Mandalorian tending it wasn't overly fond of.

"What do you want?" asked the quartermaster.

"Nice tone," said Jaq. "You greet everyone like that?"

"No, just you."

Jaq's mood lightened as he took in the Mandalorian's somewhat sour mood. "Well Sunshine, you got anything worth buying?"

"The name's Kex; you'd be smart to remember it."

"I'll do my best." A belt hanging on the wall caught his eye. "What do you want for that?" he asked, pointing.

Kex looked over his shoulder at the item. "That Eriadu Stealth belt? Well, just for being you, 1000 credits."

"How about 400 and I throw in these." Jaq rolled up his sleeves and pulled off a pair of Infiltrator gloves.

"Why not?" said Kex. "If you're going into the jungle by yourself, I might just get it back."

"What makes you think I'm headed into the jungle?"

"You planning on doing something else with that belt? I'd be careful; stealth units aren't perfect, and if you get caught, you get shot."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The exchange was completed just as a red-armored Mandalorian ran up. "Hey Kex," said the Mandalorian.

"What 'cha got, Kelborn?" asked Kex.

"One of the Jedi's friends is clearing out the battle circle," said Kelborn. "She started with Davrel and Joz and walloped both of them. She's looking for a new opponent; you want a crack at her?"

"Sure, why not?" replied Kex. "Been a while since I've stepped into the ring."

"What makes you think you'll do any better?" Jaq asked with a smile.

Kex scoffed. "Most of the guys hanging around there are inexperienced. Me? I've got years of combat experience."

"I bet that still won't be enough," said Jaq. "In fact, I bet 400 credits on it."

"What?" asked Kex.

"Yeah. If you can floor her, I'll give you another 400 credits. But, if I come back and see you're favoring a leg, I get my 400 back."

"I don't need money as an incentive to fight, but you've got a bet."

"Before you go running off into battle Kex," said Kelborn, "I need that Heavy Repeater you were working on."

"You're heading out?" asked Kex.

"Yeah," replied Kelborn. "Mandalore's got me on a scout mission; another ship landed in the jungle. Gotta make sure they don't find the camp."

"Alright, give me a minute." Kex headed to the back of the shop.

Jaq reached under his robe and took out a pair of Kubaz Scoundrel gloves. Then, he sensed an opportunity. "Need an extra pair of eyes?" he asked, pulling on the gloves.

"Huh?" asked Kelborn.

"Your scout mission," said Jaq. "Four eyes see more than two, and I'm not that busy right now."

"You think you can keep up?"

"Feel free to leave me behind if I can't."

"Alright then. If you're sure you're up to it."

Kex returned with a Mandalorian Heavy Repeating Rifle in one hand and a pair of long swords in the other. "I was able to increase the power output," he said, handing Kelborn the heavy rifle, "but it's got a mean kick now, so don't hold down the trigger too long or you'll be shooting birds."

"Don't rifles usually have recoil buffers?" asked Jaq.

Kex chuckled. "Apparently you've never used a Mandalorian weapon," he said, "especially one I've had a chance to open up. Hold one of my pistols wrong, and you'll end up breaking your nose."

Kelborn powered up the rifle and looked at Jaq. "Ready?"

Jaq fastened his stealth belt. "Sure."

"You're taking him with you?" Kex asked Kelborn.

"He volunteered," replied Kelborn. He and Jaq turned to leave.

"If he dies in the jungle, I want that gear back," said Kex.

Both Kelborn and Jaq gave an affirmative salute as they headed towards the main gate. Ahead of them, HK was also leaving the base on a mission of his own.

* * *

The assassin droid wasn't exactly thrilled with the mission he had stumbled on. Find the remains of a dead Mandalorian somewhere in the jungle and haul it back to the camp; how had he sunk so low? There was nothing challenging about this task; the Mandalorian who had sent him into the jungle, Xarga, had provided him with the route the missing Mandalorian was assumed to have taken, and the only obstacles that could possibly get in his way were small packs of simple, primitive carnivores. HK emitted an audio hiss akin to a sigh and hoped something would attack him; it would give him an excuse to use the molten cannon mounted on his forearm. The problem with that plan was HK didn't simply want an excuse. He preferred to go out, find trouble, and deal with it on his terms. This method always yielded the best results; waiting for a threat to arise was never a wise tactic. Unfortunately, he had not been instructed to search out threats during this mission, and it would be against his master's wishes to deviate from his task. So he was stuck in a potentially-defensive and certainly-bored position. That is until is integrated comlink went off.

"Greeting: HK-47 reporting, sir."

"_What is your status?_" asked Silas.

"Answer: As per your instructions, I have undertaken a mission for the Mandalorian meatbags. However, I must protest as to the nature of this mission."

"_And what kind of mission would that be?_"

"Answer: A fetch-and-carry one, master. I feel this is a gross misuse of my talents."

HK could hear his master chuckling on the other end. "_You picked your mission HK. So deal with your choice, and get it done._"

"Resignation: Yes, master."

"_If your current assignment is not grabbing your interest, I have one for you. It will be secondary to the Mandalorian's mission, of course, but I think you will find it entertaining._"

"Statement: master, you never fail to lift my spirits. What task do you have?"

"_I need you to find a phase-pulse converter; intact of in pieces, I do not care._"

"Confused query: You're sending me on a scavenger hunt? Master, I though you said it would be fun."

"_The converter was eaten, HK, by cannoks. This is search, destroy, and recover. Burn every cannok you find, then search their remains for the converter. When you find it or all its parts, bring it back to the camp and give it to the Mandalorian Zuka. It will go a long way towards accomplishing our objective here._"

"Acknowledgement: Understood, master. I shall accomplish both missions before I return. And I shall endeavor to have more fun on my primary mission as well."

"_Good. Good; I knew I could count on you._"

"Salutation: HK-47, signing out." Gutting cannoks. It still wasn't an ideal use of his skills, but at this point HK would do anything to end his boredom. He activated his thermal scanner and began sweeping the forest for moving packs of thermal signatures. He was no longer on the defensive; now he was going to take the fight to the enemy. All he had to do was find them.

* * *

"'Search, destroy, and recover'?" repeated Kreia. "Interesting descriptors, given the nature of the mission."

"It is all about the delivery, especially with HK," said Silas. A collection of "Oh"s and groans emanating from the spectators on the far side of the battle circle caught Silas' attention. He turned to see Brianna's current opponent, Kex, crumpling into a fetal position on the ground. Above him, Brianna was smiling, beaming, at her imminent victory. She kicked Kex's sword from his hand and landed another against his faceplate with enough force to send him onto his back. To finalize her victory, she held her sword centimeters above his head.

"The match is over," said the sergeant. "Brianna is the clear and honorable victory." He looked over at Kex's downed form. "Could someone give Kex a hand?" Two Mandalorians, both of whom had a slight limp, helped Kex to his feet and carried him out of the ring. After making sure Kex was clear of the circle, the sergeant looked back at Brianna. "Your skills are impressive; you've bested almost everyone here. The only two left for you to fight are Kelborn and our best, Bralor. Unfortunately, neither of them are around right now. You can either wait for them to return, or you can go out, find them, and convince them to return."

"Hmm." Brianna gave him one last look before walking back over to Silas and Kreia.

"Impressive," said Silas. "That was most impressive." The trio started back towards the main gate.

"That was mostly easy," said Brianna. "They should not brag so much."

"And neither should you," warned Silas. "Be careful; arrogance can work both ways." He got an affirmative nod from her. "However, you will find that many of our opponents will be easily dispatched; they do not have the luxury of our strict training and conditioning. But that does not mean you don't have to take them seriously."

"A lesson I have learned before," said Brianna.

"A lesson easily learned, but not easily practiced," said Kreia.

"So where do we find this 'Kelborn' and 'Bralor'?" asked Silas.

"I learned that Kelborn left the circle shortly after I defeated Joz," answered Brianna. "Rumor has it he will be gone for at least a day."

"And the other?" asked Silas.

"Bralor is in the camp, but he will not fight just anyone. The only way I will be able to fight him is to defeat Kelborn, or so the sergeant told me."

"Let's assume he is right," said Silas. "You should probably hang around here. When Kelborn returns, you will need to face him as quickly as possible. The sooner you can defeat these champions, the sooner we'll reach Onderon."

"If we are going to be here overnight," said Kreia, "then it would be wise for us to retrieve some supplies from the ship."

Silas nodded in agreement. "We can take care of then when we meet up with Bao-Dur."

As the trio neared the entrance, a red-armored Mandalorian got their attention. "If you're going into the jungle, you should know that we've called off our patrols shortly after the space battle started, so there's a good chance you'll run into a few beasts if you go too far."

Silas recognized this Mandalorian as the one who ambushed them earlier, Cavok. "We did encounter groups of predators," said Silas, "but they seemed more interested in attacking each other than us."

"I'm not surprised," said Cavok. "They're fiercely territorial; always eager to expand their hunting grounds. It might be a good idea for one of my men to lead you through the jungle, bypass the areas we know the larger beasts inhabit."

Silas gave himself half a second to consider the Mandalorian's offer. "A prudent call but in this case, unnecessary. We can handle ourselves."

"There are beasts out there that are larger then bomas," said Cavok. "I'd like to see how long your bravery lasts against something as massive as a zakkeg."

Silas' eyebrow raised in intrigue. "A zakkeg? I have heard stories but never had the honor of meeting one."

"If you're lucky, you never will," replied Cavok. "When people say a zakkeg's hide is as tough as reinforced durasteel plating, they're _not_ exaggerating. And they're as vicious as they are tough; a real challenge for a Mandalorian, but suicide for anyone else."

"Have there been any sightings recently?"

"One of our last patrols thought they heard one in the jungle northeast of the camp. If they heard right, we may have to take care of it before it finds its way here."

Silas gave the Mandalorian a half grin. "That sounds like a challenge I would be up for."

Cavok chuckled. "You? Take on a zakkeg? Now there's something I'd like to see."

"You really think I would not stand a chance, do you?"

"In a word…no. But if you somehow manage to pull it off, you'll gain a lot of respect around here. Of course, you'll need proof for anyone to believe you did it."

"Fine. I will be back before nightfall…with a piece of a zakkeg on my belt." Silas turned to Brianna and Kreia. "I trust you two can handle the round trip without me?" he receive an affirmative nod from both women. "Good." He gestured for them to proceed and followed them past the gate.

to be continued...

Author's End Note: Chapter 7 will be up ASAP. Possibly in a few weeks, but don't quote me on that. Lots of action and a few twists to the sub-plots those of you who are reading this have probably already memorized.


	7. Uninvited Guests

Disclaimer: No, I don't own them, I just make them look cooler.

Author's Note: Behold! My long silence is broken and I am made whole once more. (I loved that line) Actually, it had come to my attention that I was well past my deadline of "few weeks" for my next submission. Thanks Anime-Starwars-fan-zach for getting me in gear. I blame four things: general laziness, life, an underestimation of how much stuff I was going to write, and HK-47. His one scene stalled everything for a month and a half. So, I just finished his scene and I'm posting what I've done. This is about half of the original ch 7, and its practically 6000 words (5977 to be exact). That makes it longer than ch5, and I'm not done yet! Geez, will I ever get off Dxun? Oh well, here's chapter 7. Oh, I blame one more thing, the extra content I added in the already incredibly long chapter that is "Finished Business". I fixed some details that I realized only worked in the game. In real life, Silas would never have convinced Zez Kai-El to help, so I went back and fixed that annoying error. Also, I extended Mira's "awakening" to the Force. Look for the new stuff around the middle of the chapter and at the end. I might, and I stress _might_ lengthen Brianna's awakening in chapter 5 (a few friends of mine said it was too quick. Tell that to my fingers), but that won't be till later. So, that's all for now. If you enjoyed it, if you hated it, or if you just found it mildly entertaining, let me know in your review.

Chapter 7: Uninvited Guests

Visas Marr emerged from the jungle brush; her trek had finally taken her to the location where the Force was gathering. The closer she got to the source, the stronger it drew her in. Entering the clearing, she gasped in awe at the raw power emanating from the structure before her. The stone building literally pulsed with the Force, the dark side of the Force, and all that power was drawing in the Force around it like a vacuum. It was unlike anything she had experienced before in her life; not even standing in Lord Nihilus' presence was this extraordinary. _How does he not know of this place?_ Her approach was cautious; the maelstrom of Force energy was daunting to behold, much more so to actually move towards. She placed her hand against the structure's base and inhaled sharply. The stone wall felt cold to the touch, unnaturally cold. Yes, the dark side was indeed strong here. It was hypnotizing, and Visas couldn't help but bask in it. But, enveloped by the power of the structure, she had failed to notice the other presence drawing nearer.

"Sorry Miraluka, but we're not ready for visitors yet."

Visas had barely enough time to register the audio-filtered voice before she lost consciousness.

* * *

Silas, Brianna, and Kreia had just passed a perimeter checkpoint when a Mandalorian voice caught their attention. "So, you've finally arrived." The trio turned to find the Mandalorian standing next to a nearby tree; he was carrying a blaster pistol. "Now I get to reclaim the honor you stole from me."

There was something familiar about this Mandalorian's voice. Fortunately, Brianna's skills of recollection were faster than Silas' at this moment.

"Davrel. What do you mean 'honor I stole from you'?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Davrel replied. "You humiliated me in the battle circle and in front of my fellow warriors. So I challenge you here, outside the battle circle, to a fight to the death."

_This is getting interesting,_ thought Silas. He cast a sideways glace to Brianna; her expression was neutral as she thought over Davrel's challenge.

Exhaling, she advanced on him without saying a word. Davrel raised his blaster, but she knocked his arm away before he could fire. When she was just inside an arm's length away, she stopped and stared at the Mandalorian. "Take off you helmet," she told him.

"What?" asked Davrel.

"I said take off your helmet," she repeated.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I want to see you to look me in the eyes and tell me you are willing to fight to the death over what happened back there."

Davrel complied, and removed his helmet. Underneath was a blond, brown-eyed kid in his early twenties whose inexperience seemed to be paled only by his recklessness. Yet again, Brianna felt she only had one course of action open to her. "I will do whatever I have to," Davrel began, "to reclaim my hon-" His declaration was cut short when she slugged him square in the face. The impact was so sudden, Davrel didn't have time to react or steady himself, so he landed flat on his back.

"Don't be a fool," said Brianna, crossing her arms. "There is no honor in dying in a pointless battle. And before you say there was a chance you could win, consider where you are now and how you let me get close enough to put you there."

Davrel groaned in frustration. "I can't face them again until I can prove myself. 'Til then, I'll be treated like a runt."

"Well then, it seems you have only a few options. You can either live out the rest of your days in the jungle, or you can train until you're ready to step into the ring."

The young Mandalorian furrowed his brows and tilted his head down to at her. "Train?"

"That is the preferred method for increasing one's strength."

Davrel moved to a sitting position and cocked his head. "Why do you want to help me?"

"You don't think you are worthy? Very well. I shall finish what you started." Brianna reared back.

"No wait!" pleaded Davrel, leaning back. Brianna paused. "I am. I..I am. It's just…what do you want in return?"

Brianna smiled coolly. "We will discuss payment after I assess your potential."

Silas raised an eyebrow at her answer, but decided against commenting on it. "Brianna," he said, "why don't you escort our Mandalorian _friend_ to our ship? He can then escort you and Bao-Dur back to the camp. He might as well learn the route." After receiving a nod from Brianna, Silas turned and headed down a trail leading past the northeast side of the camp.

* * *

"There they are," said Kelborn, looking through a pair of electrobinoculars. The pair had trekked through almost seven kilometers of dense, pathless jungle and were now taking cover at the edge of a steep cliff overlooking a valley much like the one the _Hawk_ had landed in, only three times larger. Kelborn would have liked to have gotten closer to the infiltrators' camp, but he chose to sacrifice the proximity in favor of the altitude, the sun setting behind them, and the fact that he wasn't on a solo mission anymore. Even though he'd accepted the outsider's offer to tag along, Kelborn didn't know him or that much about him, which meant that, until the outsider proved otherwise, he couldn't really be relied on. Still the outsider was, if nothing else, a second pair of eyes and another target to shoot at, but he did at least look capable of handling himself in a firefight. He did say he was a Jedi, or Om…something, so it was possible the guy knew what he was doing.

Kelborn handed the electrobinoculars to Jaq. "Take a look." In the center of the clearing sat a medium troop transport shuttle surrounded by a small collection of tents and equipment. And scurrying around the site was a group of heavily-armed soldiers. "Nine of them," Kelborn told Jaq. "Four sentries guarding the perimeter; five more setting up camp. One of them's a sergeant."

"I'm guessing they have more hiding in the jungle," added Jaq. "That ship's too big for just nine." Jaq could tell the attack on this ship and crew was going to pan out very differently then the one before. Unlike the Duros, these guys were organized, not to mention formally trained and prepared to repel an attack. Make that well prepared to repel an attack; Jaq panned towards the ship and found soldiers unloading auto-turrets. "Those guns are going to be a problem."

"Every weapon has a weakness," replied Kelborn.

Jaq rolled his eyes inside the binoculars' eyepiece and groaned inwardly. _That has got to be the Mandalorian-est thing I have ever heard. _But Jaq knew Kelborn was right, and the fact that the Mandalorian felt the need to point it out could only mean that his plan to assault the enemy camp was going to get much more complicated and risky. Jaq started to put down the binoculars and say something to that affect when new movement on the landing craft's boarding ramp caught his attention. "Oh shit. We have another problem."

"What?" asked Kelborn.

Jaq handed back the binoculars. "See for yourself."

Zooming in, Kelborn immediately located their new problem: another half dozen soldiers accompanied by two officers. But unlike the brown and white uniforms worn by the Onderonian officers, these uniforms were solid gray. "Sith," said Kelborn. "Hmph. So much for Onderon and the Republic. I wonder where they came from."

"Don't know," Jaq replied, still looking out towards the camp, "but I am starting to reconsider that frontal assault you kept taking about."

"Me too," said Kelborn. "Think they're gonna have Dark Jedi with 'em?"

Jaq reached out and tested for any Force presences, finding none. "No," he answered. "I don't sense any." The comment got a silent stare from Kelborn that took Jaq a couple of seconds to register and another couple to respond to. "What?"

Kelborn shook his head a few times. "I never did get used to hearing you Jedi say stuff like that. It's kinda creepy sometimes."

Jaq thought for a moment then nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean." He turned his attention back to the clearing below. "Still. What are we gonna do about those extra soldiers?"

Kelborn paused to weigh his options. It wouldn't be long until dark; they could wait until then to attack. That might give them an edge over the soldiers, but not the auto-turrets. Waiting for next light would give the infiltrators time to set up more equipment; they'd lose the element of surprise. They needed to hit them as soon as possible. If only he'd brought…Kelborn smiled and looked towards Jaq. "How good's your throwing arm?"

* * *

"Command: Terminate your retreat, quadrupedal fleshbag!" yelled HK-47 as he pursued a panicking cannok. This was the part of the hunt HK enjoyed the most: picking off the runners. Striding past the charred remains of the former cannok pack, his behavior core hummed with anticipation and excitement. The chase had begun. And this chase would be especially rewarding; metallurgical scans indicated that his secondary objective was located deep within the beast's slimy innards.

HK's combat protocols cycled through the myriad of extended-ranged attack strategies, searching for the one that would be as effective as it would be satisfying. Just minutes earlier, when he was taking on the entire pack at close range, he relied solely on the flamethrower mounted on his right forearm. The tactic cost him over 80 percent of his plasma tank reserves, but it successfully incinerated eight of the ten cannoks; the final two scattered into the jungle as soon as they registered the deaths of their pack mates. To anyone else, the tactic would have been overkill and a drain on offensive resources, but being an assassin droid of unrivaled sophistication meant that HK could adapt to and overcome any situation that presented itself, or so he frequently told himself.

His targeting sensors tracked the bounding cannok, timing and analyzing its slightest movements, looking for predictable patterns that could be exploited. He had to time his shots carefully to avoid causing any last second, indirect damage to his metallic prize, though the odds that the converter still functioned after extended exposure to the organic creature's stomach acid were less than 39 percent.

His opportunity came in the form of a fallen tree in the distance. The cannok would have to jump it to continue its flight, presenting HK with a vulnerable target for .85 seconds. And for a droid that measured each day in milliseconds, there couldn't have been a more perfect set up. HK leveled his blasters and locked his arm joints in preparation for his attack. Calculating the speed of the cannok and the velocity of his projected blaster shot, HK's combat timer cycled down to zero, and the droid fired a shot from both blasters. Ahead of him, the cannok began its jump. The pair of plasma blasts knifed through the air and slammed into the back of the beast's eye stalks. The shots burned through skin and optic nerve, blinding the cannok. It instantly lost its balance, hitting the ground on the other side of the fallen tree. It took several seconds for the screaming animal to scramble to its feet, and by then HK had closed the distance. He crippled the cannok with a volley of shots to its knees.

"Smug statement: Your inefficient organic muscles are no match for my gyro-stabilized leg motors. And to think, your species is classified as predators." Two more shots to the head silence the beast permanently. "Overly-aggressive pack vermin is a better descriptor." HK made a quick amendment to his internal database then returned to his still-incomplete mission. Now that he had killed the cannok, he had another problem: retrieving the converter lodged within its viscera.

"Hello? Is someone out there?"

HK's audio receptors automatically went into overdrive to pinpoint the origin of the new stimulus. Analysis indicated the sound was a form of vocal communication; pitch and tone suggested a humanoid species, and there was a hint of Mandalorian in the accent. However, since he had no audio files he could reference, there was only a 64 percent chance that this was his primary objective. For one, his target was supposed to be dead already. And two, there were confirmed reports of other meatbag groups, Mandalorian included, milling around the jungle. The first option to present itself was to simply mark the location of the audio stimulus and continue forward until those odds increased; no need to deviate from his mission on a calculated whim. Still, the odds that this meatbag required assistance were at least 87 percent, and as Revan had informed him on several occasions, a distressed meatbag was also an extortable meatbag.

As his tracking systems raced through the calculations to pinpoint the stimulus' origin, he emitted an irritated growl; having to compensate for the reverberations and distortions caused by all this growth was slowing him down. His patience began to wane as the milliseconds ticked by; oh how he hated this organic environment. For once he was glad he did not possess an olfactory receptor; no doubt the floral surroundings were as odious as they were multihued. The urge to shoot something grew to near intolerable levels as the fourth second of his calculations crept closer; had he not possessed total control of all his joint rotors, HK might have started tapping his footpad, twitching his fingers, or some other rapid motion commonly performed by meatbags caught in anxiety-rich situations.

"Hello?"

The voiceprint matched the previous recording, and HK pinpointed the source. 180 meters northwest of his location and…7.5 meters above him? That didn't make much sense; this chlorophyll-infested mud pit must be affecting his sensors worse than he originally anticipated. At least he had a heading; he would correct the anomalies later if necessary.

172 meters later, HK finally made visual contact with the source of the audio stimulus: a lone Mandalorian in blue armor sitting on a high plateau. At the base of the plateau was a mangled pile of metal constructs, perhaps the broken remains of whatever the Mandalorian had used to reach his current position. HK ran some new calculations: 81 percent probability that the Mandalorian above him was not injured, but stuck; 13 percent probability that the Mandalorian was wounded just enough to be rendered immobile; 6 percent probability that the Mandalorian was slowly dying of a mortal wound and simply desired to be put out of his misery. But before these numbers could be confirmed, there was another set that took priority.

"Query: Are you the Mandalorian meatbag, Kumus?" asked HK.

"Yes, I…," answered the blue-armored Mandalorian. "Wait, what did you say?"

Triumph! HK had found Kumus. However, the fact that the Mandalorian was still alive meant HK might have to alter his mission. "Annunciated recitation: I said, 'are..you..the.. Manda-lorian..meat-bag..Kumus?'" HK recomputed the probabilities: 72 percent chance the Mandalorian was simply stuck; 17 percent chance the Mandalorian was injured in some way (most likely a head injury of some kind due to the Mandalorian's inability to remember simple questions); 11 percent chance the Mandalorian's head injury was in fact fatal (probably a hemorrhaging blood vessel applying pressure to the brain). If the latter was the case, then his second problem would resolve itself: he was sent to retrieve a dead Mandalorian's remains, not rescue a live one.

"Is that some sort of insult?" asked Kumus.

HK's second and third probability values switched at the Mandalorian's question. "Statement: I have no idea to what you are referring. I am simply attempting to verify your identity. Query: Are you likely to expire within the next few hours due to some sort of life-threatening injury?"

"_What?_"

The Mandalorian's inability to give a coherent answer was troubling and annoying, yet promising. The probability of him having a fatal injury was growing .02 percent every .6 seconds. If only he didn't have to have everything repeated to him. "Annunciated recitation: I said, 'are..you-?'"

"No, I'm not dying!" yelled Kumus. "I'm just trapped up here!"

HK was growing irritated at the Mandalorian's erratic behavior. He hated it when meatbags supplied him with inconsistent data and answers, and it appeared that this one was going to be habitually inconsistent. HK emitted a soft sigh; why couldn't this meatbag be dead like he was supposed to be? Only one way to find out. "Query: Why are you not dead?"

Kumus detected a moderate amount of irritation in the droid's question. _What kind of psychotic droid is this? _"What do you mean why am I not dead?"

"Answer: According to the Mandalorian Xarga, scout Kumus has been lost in the jungle and out of contact for four standard days. Any Mandalorian gone for that length of time is presumed dead or captured."

"That is true, but as you can see, I'm neither."

"Concurrence: Yes, I can see that…much to my dismay."

Kumus was beginning to regret his call for help. This droid was proving no help at all; worse, it actually sounded like it was hoping he would die! "Who…_what_ are you?"

HK analyzed the Mandalorian's question for a few milliseconds. The audacity! Perhaps if the meatbag knew who he was dealing with, he would become more cooperative. "Proud answer: I am HK series assassin droid well-suited for combat in any terrain. This model is capable of translating over 6,000 forms of communication and when diplomacy fails, can effortlessly sever any organic meatbag from his or her existence at the request of my master. Currently, I am engaged in a recovery mission for the Mandalorian meatbag named Xarga. His has requested the return of essential tools and equipment from the corpse of the lost Mandalorian scout, Kumus. Query: Is that a satisfactory answer?"

Kumus was stunned. The rust-colored droid's answer was wholly unexpected and equally disturbing. _An assassin droid? This thing's an assassin droid? Well, I guess that explains a few things. I wonder... _"You're not Mandalorian, so who's your master? Is he anywhere nearby?"

This Mandalorian was becoming nosey, and HK's patience, or whatever was left of them, were quickly running thin. "Statement: I am afraid I cannot divulge any information regarding my current master or any previous ones, and it is inadvisable for you to continue making such queries."

_So much for getting _organic _help._ "Well, can you at least help me down from here?"

HK ran several scans of the plateau and the surrounding area. "Query: How did you reach your current position?"

Kumus sagged slightly; he knew that question would come up eventually. Retelling the story wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for a few embarrassing details. "I was part of an expedition group sent out to find hidden supply and munitions caches in the jungle. Initially we mapped four sites, and since the mission seemed to be going so smoothly, we decided to split up and each take our own site. I picked this one, and from the moment I arrived, I've regretted it." The Mandalorian shook his head. "This site's been nothing but trouble. The only way to reach the cache is from the top of the plateau, an ingenious design: well hidden to ground troops who don't already know its location and easily accessible to small repulsorcraft. Unfortunately, I didn't have a repulsorcraft, so I had to rig a field gantry. After I was done, I came up here to inspect the entry hatch and set up the demo charges I brought to blow it open. I underestimated the strength of the hatch and didn't use enough explosives. All I did was make a loud noise, one loud enough to attract a pack of bomas. They came charging out of the jungle as I was collecting the next set of charges. I was unarmed and outnumbered, so I acted without thinking and retreated up the gantry. One of the big ones tried to follow me, but the rig couldn't support the weight and it collapsed. After they gave up and left, I saw my equipment pack was trampled and the remains of the gantry frame were…well, you can see for yourself. The only things left intact are the charges and the detonator pad."

HK would have laughed himself into a seizure had he been programmed with the ability. Never, in all the years of his activation, had he heard anything this hilarious. A Mandalorian, confronted by beasts, becomes so terrified that he runs away. He abandons his weapons and his mission only to get himself trapped in the very place he sought safety! Even as a droid, HK could appreciate, even revel in, such ironies. Fortunately, and unfortunately, HK's artificial frame was unable to express these "emotions" apart from a slight flaring of his optic sensors. "Rhetorical: And I suppose you have exhausted all options to get down."

"More or less," replied Kumus. "I didn't have many to begin with, and I have even less to work with. Does that droid brain of yours have any ideas?"

The assassin droid had no choice but to concur with the Mandalorian's assessment. The only viable option that presented itself was to reconstruct the gantry, and that required three things HK didn't have at the moment: a plasma welder, time, and patience. So there was nothing he could do; the Mandalorian was stuck, and HK couldn't complete his mission,…but there was one thing he _could _do. A data file surfaced, replaying his first day of activation. This file was located in a special section of his memory banks. It could not be tampered with or erased short of the complete removal of his memory core. This file contained both audio and video elements. Standing in front of him was a dark-eyed man just over than half a head shorter than him; a man he immediately identified as his creator: Darth Revan.

_"HK,"_ said Revan,_ "you are to carry out your missions with precision and stealth, and you not permitted to fail. However, if the situation becomes untenable, you may abandon discretion to complete your objective, so long as you leave no witnesses."_

That was all the incentive the assassin droid needed. "Assessment: Mission objective no longer viable. Mission risk: critical. Overriding original parameters." HK trained his blasters on the Mandalorian's head. "New mission objective: Terminate Mandalorian meatbag."

"Wa-wait!" yelled Kumus. "Y-you can't kill me!"

"Rebuttal: Oh, I'm afraid I can," replied HK. He overcharged his blasters and fired two shots. The plasma bolts slammed into the center of the Kumus' faceplate and burned through visor and flesh, instantly killing the Mandalorian. HK's audio sensors detected a faint clacking sound coming from above him. Half a second later, a small box tethered to a long cord fell into his field of vision. It was a curious thing: palm-sized, simple, and in its center, a standard-sized red button. HK's optics flared as he approached the detonator; perhaps his original mission wasn't so untenable after all. Doubtless the cord wasn't actually attached to the Mandalorian, but it was attached to the explosives the Mandalorian was now laying on. With sufficient force, the body could be projected off the plateau, allowing him to field-strip the remains as originally ordered. If there wasn't enough force, well he'd still enjoy pushing the button.

The sights and sound of the erupting thorium charges reminded HK of a Sith orbital bombardment. The Mandalorian had not exaggerating when he admitted to underestimating the amount of explosives he used on his first attempt. Clearly, this time he had decided to rig every last stick he had to ensure the hidden cache was breached. Though even HK had to admit the Mandalorian went a little overboard. The top third of the plateau was granulated, liquefied, and launched in thousands of different directions; it was awe-inspiring. Unfortunately, HK lost track of the body during the spectacle; the last image the droid had of the blue-armored body was of it spinning and twisting in the air as the shockwave from the blast expanded outward.

He was about to run trajectory calculations when his audio sensors picked up a disturbance coming from his left. Turning, he spotted a growing number of bomas emerging from the jungle, and one didn't need to be an assassin droid of unrivaled sophistication to figure out these were the same bomas that had attacked the now-dead Mandalorian. "Threat: You have forced me to prematurely terminate my primary mission," HK told the beasts. "Now, I shall do the same to you." He deployed his flamethrower and advanced on the bomas; the beasts roared and made mock-charges at him in response to his approach. HK's combat protocols raced through a number of possible attack plans; he might be able to take out three, maybe four, of the beasts with his blasters, but that would still leave an additional five, or four, left to deal with. His flamethrower would be useful, but with his plasma tank less at 20 percent capacity, he'd only get one good four-second burst. After that, there wouldn't be sufficient pressure in the tank to eject the remaining plasma. It was time to improvise.

With a final cry, the leader of the boma pack charged HK for real; the rest of the pack followed close behind. HK extended his right arm and aimed for the ground in front of him. As the beasts closed in, he ignited his flamethrower and burned an arc of fire into the grass. The wall of fire stopped the bomas' charge instantly. This gave HK enough time to fire a salvo of shots at the lead boma. It fell rather quickly to the assassin droid's well-placed blaster fire. With its leader dead, the pack was sure to scatter as the cannoks did. All HK had to do was instill a little more fear in the beasts. He activated his thermal shield and stepped through the fire wall, emitting a wailing shriek in the process. One the other side, he found the bomas had not fled in terror. Quite the opposite, they seemed _very_ pissed. "Insult: Stupid, primitive, quadrupedal fleshbags," HK muttered. "Can't even understand the significance of being able to walk through fire." This was going to be a bit more difficult than he had anticipated.

* * *

Kelborn and Jaq were ready for the first phase of their two-man assault on the infiltrators' camp. They had set up their makeshift staging area on the same high cliff they had spotted the infiltrators from. They watched their targets finish setting up their camp, creating a scale-model replica on a datapad for later reference. Twilight was falling, and the infiltrators were taking a break to feast on their dinner rations. Now was the perfect time to strike

Kelborn was lying prone at the edge of the cliff, making a final sweep of the camp through his electrobinoculars. "Ready?" he asked Jaq.

"Ready," replied Jaq. He stood about a meter behind Kelborn and was wearing a Targeting Visor that was synced with Kelborn's binoculars and wrapped around his index and middle finger was a small targeting camera. His free fingers twitched with anticipation and a half-grin spread over his face. "This is going to be _fun_."

"Right," said Kelborn. "First target: the munitions crates in grid G-7. Let's shake 'em up a little."

"Roger that." A red directional arrow appeared on the Targeting Visor's grid map. Jaq turned until the arrow became a lit square, designating his target. Exhaling, Jaq reached out with the Force, and lifted a plasma grenade from the pile next to him into the air. Turning his hand palm-up, he rested the grenade on his upper arm. A second indicator appeared on the visor screen: a pair of blue lines that met a point. Jaq made a couple of small movements with his arm until the vertex of the blue lines overlapped the red-lit target. Taking one last deep breath, Jaq placed his left hand behind the grenade and concentrated the Force into the palms of both hands. "Fire in the hole." In an instant, the grenade barreled down his arm and disappeared into the failing light, whistling a song of impending doom as it flew.

* * *

"Sergeant!" called one of the Onderonian soldiers as he ran up to his commanding officer. "Hey Sergeant! I have a message for you!"

The sergeant in question was currently discussing the next day's events with the Sith lieutenant, a man very much his junior in age. In the Onderonian's opinion, the lieutenant was an asshole, a big, tall asshole. But, he was also an outranking one, so the private's interruption was a welcome distraction. Unfortunately, the Sith didn't agree.

"Sergeant, I hope your men's fighting skills are better than their manners," said the lieutenant. "If not, we are all doomed."

"I assure you," replied the sergeant through gritted teeth, "they will perform their jobs with the utmost precision. I wouldn't have brought them otherwise. It's _your_ men that I'm worried about."

"And I can assure _you_,_ Sergeant_," said the Sith, "that your worries are misplaced. My men will steamroll over these Mandalorians before they even have a chance to retaliate."

"We'll see," said the sergeant. He turned to the private. "What've you got, son?"

"A message from the exploration team, sirs," answered the private. "They're found the temple they were looking for, and they've caught an intruder."

"An intruder?" asked the Sith. "So soon? Was it a Mandalorian?"

"No sir," said the private. "Lord Rzaz said the intruder was a…" The private squinted, trying to make out the next word, "…a 'Mira..ll'…a 'Myra..loo'…a 'Myra…lucka'…a Mira…"

"Let me see that," ordered the Sith, snatching the pad from the smaller man. He quickly scanned the report. "A Miraluka?" he said to himself. "Here?"

The sergeant noticed the confused look on the lieutenant. "Is there a problem?"

"Nothing you need be-" The Sith's retort was cut short by a blinding light and a cacophony of sounds that started out with an eardrum-busting explosion almost instantly followed by dozens of equally loud or louder ones. Then rose a chorus of screams. The evening sky was filled with the sounds of men yelling, cursing, and running for their lives. All three men turned to view the chaos behind them. Several tent canopies were burning, and both Sith and Onderonian soldiers were diving under any cover they could find. The lieutenant was stunned by the spectacle. "What is this!?"

The sergeant, and the private, had already started running towards the rest of the camp. "It's called an attack, you idiot!" His next orders were drowned out by an explosion that destroyed the communication antennae.

* * *

"Nice one," said Kelborn, watching and reveling in the havoc they were sowing. "That should keep 'em from calling in any reinforcements."

"Thanks," said Jaq. "What's our next target?"

"Hmm…let's see." Kelborn slowly panned across the camp. "Aha, they'll do. Grid B-14, a group of soldiers is hiding under a table."

"Idiots. How many?"

"There's four under the table. Another one's trying to get 'em to move."

"Perfect." Jaq lifted a frag grenade and set it in place. Half a second after he lined up his target, the grenade was off. "Find the power generators for those auto-turrets, or do you plan on destroying everything from here?"

"And let you have all the fun? Not a chance." Kelborn traced the power cords connected to the turrets back to a large, upright, cylindrical generator. "Target acquired. Grid square R-27."

"R-27, check." Jaq located the generator and chose a thermal detonator as his next round.

"Better send two into it," said Kelborn. "Those things are designed to last. You may even need three."

Jaq launched the thermal detonator, grabbed another one, and sent it flying as well. The first detonator slammed into the upper disk of the power generator, ripping apart and peeling back the outer shell. The second grenade fell a couple of centimeters short of the target. The muddied ground absorbed much of the impact, so it didn't explode immediately. Instead, its fuse ran out and erupted with enough force to topple its nearby target.

"A little off on that one. Getting tired already?" teased Kelborn.

"Shut up," said Jaq. "I'd like to see _you_ do better."

"Hmph."

Jaq launched a third detonator at the generator. This one didn't miss. The explosion ripped through the generator's exposed inner circuitry, causing massive overloads that blew the entire generator into shrapnel no larger than human fingers. The initial explosion killed two soldiers; the flying debris took out two others.

* * *

"Sergeant!" yelled the now-panicking Sith lieutenant. "We need to get to the ship and get out of here! NOW!!"

The sergeant rolled his eyes and kept trying to lift an overturned table off one of his soldier's legs. "Good idea. Let's get _all _the men together in a nice, tight spot, wait for the crew, who are dead by the way, to get the engines going, and _hope_ we all don't die in a _MASSIVE FUCKING EXPLOSION_!!" A fireball erupted from the cockpit of the transport. "Dammit! _Dammit! DAMMIT!!_" The sergeant finally managed to gain enough leverage to lift the table. It rolled over, and he lifted the wounded private to his feet.

The sergeant's heated response seemed to snap the lieutenant out of his panic. "We can't stay here. It's too exposed."

"That's the smartest thing you've said all day," said the sergeant, still carrying the injured private. "Get as many as you find and see if you can convince them to follow you into the jungle. That'll give you enough cover."

"Cover, sir?" asked the private. "From what?"

"We're under artillery fire some how." A quick series of explosions echoed from beneath the transport followed by two loud thuds as the ship's landing gear blew apart, knocking the large transport on its side.

"I've never seen strikes so precise," said the wide-eyed Sith.

"I saw something like this once," said the sergeant. "But that was a _long_ time ago, and that time, I wasn't the poor bastard being bombarded. Now get going," he told the Sith.

* * *

"They're headed into the jungle," said Kelborn. "Smart move."

"Well, they won't be leaving anytime soon," said Jaq. "That's for sure."

"Right, then," said Kelborn, finally putting down the binoculars and standing up. "I think it's time for us to give them, and us, a break. It'll be dark for almost seven standard hours; I suggest you take four of them to get some sleep."

Jaq raised an eyebrow at the Mandalorian's comment. "Sleep? Now? They're scattered and scared; we can't just stop now."

"And exhausted," added Kelborn. "Not to mention hungry. But they're also amped up on an adrenaline. We need to give that adrenaline rush time to wear off."

"And you don't think they'll find us?"

"They might, but I doubt they'll do much exploring. It's a safe bet they don't know it's just us two out here, and they're not going to want to risk splitting up further to stumble around a jungle at night, especially since they _know_ Mandalorians are hunting them."

"Good point," replied Jaq.

"Plus," added Kelborn, leaning against a tree, "Mandalore wants us to interrogate a couple of survivors, and I hate doing interrogations in the dark."

Jaq was sure the Mandalorian was smiling at him under his helmet; he gave Kelborn a slightly annoyed expression in return. "Alright, have it your way. And since it was your idea, you get first watch."

"Deal. We Mandalorians don't sleep that much anyway."

"I know that," Jaq muttered just loud enough for the other to hear. "Just one more thing: if I wake up and you're not here…" Kelborn cut him off.

"Ha! If you wake up and I'm not here, you should consider yourself lucky whatever killed me didn't think you were worth the effort!"

to be continued...

The new chapter 8 will be up...aw, I'm not going to even try. It may be a little shorter than this, but I'm not counting on it. Like I said at the top, HK really slowed me down. I'm hoping Silas doesn't do the same.

As an apology for my tardiness, here's what I'm working on now: (It may be abridged but that's because I haven't fleshed it out yet.)

"My ship, my time line," said Mandalore. "I'm leaving in two days, no sooner. If you're there, feel free to join me, but I'm not waiting." He exited the command center.

Jaq balled his fists slightly and looked over at Silas; the man's face was totally unreadable, as always. He turned to leave and was taking his second step when a strong hand clamped softly down on his shoulder. He froze.

"Find Kreia...," came Silas' calm voice from behind him. "Quietly."


	8. The Hunters

Disclaimer: I feel like I'm beating a dead horse here...I don't own them.

Author's Note: Okay, it's been...what? Over three months? Yeah, time for an update. I'm still working on this chapter (and others. I'm _really_ evil to these characters. Just wait and see what I do to them...hehehehehe.); I have only a few more scenes to go in part 8, but inspiration has been lacking as of late. So once again, I'm posting half of the intended chapter. I would have waited until I finished the chapter to submit it, but I really like what happens in this mini-chapter, and I couldn't wait any longer to share.

Chapter 8: The Hunters

_So much for getting back by nightfall,_ thought Silas Carver as he continued to pick his way through the jungle. He had abandoned the northwest trail several hours ago, when the path became indistinguishable from the surrounding jungle. He was beginning to suspect Cavok had lied to him about a zakkeg being in the area; so far, the only hints that a large creature had been in the area were dislocated twigs and some lateral cuts across tree trunks. Silas swept his fingers over the scratches in one of the trees and frowned slightly; the cuts were a least two days old. _Whatever made these is probably kilometers away by now. And if it is not, it would not be wise for me to wander through its territory at night._

"_Indeed,"_ Kreia's voice echoed in his head. _"The role of predator and prey can reverse quickly at night."_

Silas froze in his tracks upon hearing his mentor's voice. _Kreia._ A dry half-grin appeared on his face. _Has jumping into my mind become a new sport for you now? Or do you do it just because you can?_

The aging ex-Jedi detected Silas' irritation. _"I do it whenever I feel it is necessary. Like when I sense doubt coming from you."_

Silas raised an eyebrow at her comment. _Doubt? From me?_

"_You are contemplating abandoning this mission, are you not?"_

_I was led to believe the zakkeg was nearby, and apparently it is not._

"_No. You_ assumed_ it was nearby based on old information. I am surprised you made such an error, _General_."_

_The hours grow long, and I grow tired; would you kindly make your point?_

"_An impatient hunter never catches his prey; nor does one who lacks bait."_

_Bait would be helpful, but, unfortunately, I _am_ lacking._

"_Not true. There is more than one kind of bait. Remember Nar Shaddaa?"_

Silas' irritated expression transformed into one of enlightened joy._ Ahh...yes. __I do indeed._ Whatever fatigue that was setting in evaporated as Silas found a dry spot to sit down in a meditative position.

"_This will not be the same as Nar Shaddaa, however. The thoughts of beasts, while not as complex, can still be difficult to manipulate. They do not think as we do. Instead of appealing to logic, tap their primal urges, and they will come to you."_

Carver let out a long breath, reached out with the Force as far as he could, and sent out his call…

* * *

Jaq was wrenched from his sleep so violently, for a moment he thought he had been shot. After what felt like an eternity of rapid breathing, he finally calmed down enough to notice he wasn't feeling any pain aside from a mild headache, nor was there the smell of ozone and the feel of burning flesh. Quite the opposite, there was a chill running laps up and down his spine. Further investigation revealed his hands and arms were also doing a fair amount of vibrating. Looking up, he saw Kelborn looking back at him as he took his hand off the holstered blaster at his side. Apparently, he had spooked the red-armored Mandalorian almost as much as he had spooked himself.

"What is it?" asked Kelborn.

Jaq didn't even register the Mandalorian's question; he was too focused on his own self-diagnostic. _What was that?_ He felt nervous, panicky, restless. But it felt like someone had pushed those feelings into him.

"_Come to me..." _

The command echoed in Jaq's head, kicking his instincts into overdrive. He shivered visibly and swung his head in the direction he felt the command coming from. _What the _hell_ was that?..._Who_ the hell was that?_ He could feel something familiar about the echo's source. _Echo? Echo...Silas!_

"Hey! Where're you going?"

The elevated volume of Kelborn's question dragged Jaq back into reality. He gave the Mandalorian a curious look then realized he was over three meters away from the tree he had propped himself against to sleep. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't realize he had gotten up and started walking. "Uhh…I…" Jaq trailed off, unsure of how to answer.

Kelborn cocked his head slightly. "Are you all right?" It was a stupid and obvious question, but he couldn't stop himself from asking it. And yet, there was a hint of genuine concern in the question. He thought he had seen Jedi do strange things before, but what he just saw beat the shit out of everything previous.

The fog in Jaq's mind finally lifted enough of him to make a coherent statement. "I think so."

"What was that all about?" Kelborn asked.

"I have no idea." Jaq's answer was more of a half-truth than anything else; he knew what he felt was a form of dark side mind control. Silas had given him a few lessons on mental manipulation back of Nar Shaddaa including some advanced resistance techniques, and he had become somewhat skilled at it. From the hours of training, Jaq grew to recognize Silas' unique Force signature (and Kreia's for that matter), so there was little doubt in his mind as to who had created that ripple in the Force.

Still, why had it been so strong? Silas hadn't hit him that hard with the Force since his last day as Atton. Jaq shook away the memory, not wanting to recount the veritable torture Silas had put him through back then. Not that he felt sick or angry whenever his thoughts turned to what happened, he just had to keep reminding himself the ends had justified the means as always. And in that case, the ends had been extremely beneficial for both of them.

Kelborn couldn't quite bring himself to buy his new ally's reply. Maybe the reason was his long silences between his answers; maybe it was the fact that Jedi never told people the whole truth. Actually, not telling the whole truth seemed to be the norm for everyone these days; however, in this case, it made Kelborn start to seriously re-evaluate his ally's reliability. But in keeping with the norm, Kelborn was going to keep that little detail to himself and hope whatever just happened was a one-time thing.

* * *

"_Not bad,"_ Kreia told Silas. _"For your first attempt. You have the concept, but you need to refine your technique. Focus less on tapping into the higher brain; you will earn a stronger response. Remember, all life is connected through the Force. You don't need to show your target the way. If your message is strong enough, they will find you...eventually."_

"Hm," replied Silas. He took a few seconds to center himself, savoring the silence of the nocturnal jungle. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, extending his perceptions as he did before. He had to concentrate a little harder to ensure his call was sent correctly; he was not in the mood for another mental lecture. He cleared his mind of thoughts and desires, channeling pure emotion into the Force. He got an immediate reaction from a flock of birds in a nearby tree. They shrieked at him for disturbing their sleep, jumped into the air, and circled above him, their shrill cries threatening to break his concentration. With a not-so-gentle Force pulse, Silas scattered the flock, sending each bird hurtling through the sky like darts. Finally free of distraction, he again sent out his call, this one far more feral than his first.

* * *

Lying back against the tree again, Jaq had finally gotten comfortable enough to entertain the notion of sleep when he opened his eyes and growled; he could feel himself growing edgy again. His heartbeat started echoing in his head, and a few random muscle groups started twitching. Looking around, he found Kelborn taking apart his blasters and rifles and laying the pieces randomly on a small mat. "What are you doing?" he asked the Mandalorian.

Kelborn glanced over at Jaq. "I thought you were going back to sleep."

Jaq let out a light chuckle. "So did I." By the time he pulled himself to his feet, his fatigue was a memory. Walking over to Kelborn, Jaq had to consciously make himself stop so he wouldn't start pacing. "So what are you doing?"

Kelborn didn't take his eyes off the dissected guns. "It's a Mandalorian exercise; you take apart your weapons, mix them up in the pile, then reassemble them in the same order you took them apart."

"All of your weapons?" Jaq asked, doing his best to hide the fact that his blood was running cold.

Kelborn glanced over at Jaq and held up a pistol. "Never without a weapon," he said, "especially in the jungle."

"And the reason you're doing this is…"

Kelborn turned back towards the pile of metal. "It's a test of skill and confidence. Bringing weapons you've disassembled then reassembled into combat means you have absolute confidence in your abilities and in you weapons. And if you have another Mandalorian dissect your weapons, it demonstrates that you have absolute confidence in their abilities as well."

"Huh..really…" Jaq at least tried to not sound distracted, but he was too focused on trying to lessen the influence the Force echo was having over him. His instincts were telling him to find the source of the echo and kill it; that would stop the echo and give him some peace. _No,_ Jaq told himself, _fighting Silas isn't an option. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't take him; it'd be suicide. _Even so, he_ was _itching for a fight; all he needed was the right opponent. _Or opponents..._ "I'm going to take a little walk," Jaq told Kelborn.

Kelborn slid the large barrel of the Heavy Repeater into place before turning to face Jaq. "What?"

"I doubt I'll be getting any more sleep," said Jaq, "so I thought I'd take a walk."

"Let me guess," said Kelborn. "Right into the enemy's camp?"

A sly grin appeared on Jaq's face. "Maybe."

"Not without me you're not." Kelborn returned to his weapons and began reassembling them at a noticeably quicker pace.

Jaq watched Kelborn for all of two seconds before deciding not to wait for the red Mandalorian. "Fine. I'll scout ahead then," he said as he disappeared into the underbrush.

Kelborn let out a frustrated sigh as he picked up the firing mechanism for his disruptor pistol. _I hope he doesn't do anything stupid._

* * *

With his senses extended into the Force, Silas detected the six approaching maalraas long before he could actually hear them moving through the underbrush. Silas let a small smile appear on his face as he studied the incoming beasts; there was not a hint of caution in their movements, nor did they seem concerned at all with stealth. No, these animals were charging straight towards him at top speed, and given the nature of the echo he was sending, there was no doubt in Silas' mind as to the beasts' intentions. However, when he turned is attention away from the maalraas, his smile disappeared; as pleased as he was that Kreia had been right about the animals' abilities to zero-in on his Force echo, he was slightly irritated that the zakkeg he was looking for was _not_ one of the beasts charging towards him. And at their current pace, the maalraas would be on top of him in several minutes.

Heaving a sigh, Silas rose to his feet; he would have to deal with these small distractions. In one smooth motion, he squeezed the pressure switches between his fingers, activating the catapults on his forearm cradles, and seized his hilts as they jumped into his palms. Carver stood motionless for the remaining minutes it took for the maalraas to close in on him; he was going to maintain his Force echo until the last possible moment.

The lithe predators' attacks were executed with the same reckless abandon they had been displaying for the past eight minutes. Not only had they abandoned stealth, but cooperation as well. Carver couldn't help but smile again; with a single command, he had dissolved a tight-knit pack of intelligent, skilled predators into six reckless, blindly-aggressive beasts that just happened to be after the same prey at the same time. Not surprisingly, the fastest one reached him first. It burst from the underbrush and charged straight towards him. Malvolis ignited his right saber and held it across his chest just as the maalraas leapt at him. Half a second before it struck, Malvolis started to fall backwards, letting the beast sail above him. When the maalraas' head was directly above his own, he swung the red blade in a wide arc, severing the creature's neck in half. Another half-second later his left hand shot up and shoved the lifeless abdomen away. The instant his back hit the ground, Carver kicked up and jumped to his feet, coming face-to-face with the second maalraas. Instinctively, his left hand shot up and the creature disappeared from his view. Looking up, he found it tumbling end over end as it rose into the air. He looked back down in time to see two maalraas charging him. Malvolis grabbed both of them with the Force and blew them back into the underbrush.

They didn't remain there long. When they reemerged, the two maalraas were joined by the last pair; now he was facing four highly-aggitated predators. Malvolis smirked at the creatures, and with a sweep of his hand accompanied by a wave of Force energy, sent all four predators flying to his left and into a tree. They were dazed, but nowhere near dead. Without hesitation, Malvolis ignited his left saber and hurled it at the group of maalraas. The silver blade had enough momentum behind it that it burned through all four beasts and lodged itself in the tree. The outer two maalraas crumpled to the ground; the hilt of the saber had passed through them completely and was two-thirds buried within the third. Before retrieving it, though, Malvolis remembered something. He raised his red saber vertical above his head and was rewarded with the sound and smell of searing flesh as the final maalraas fell on it. He swung his blade forward and deactivated it, sending the carcass tumbling across the jungle floor. Carver exhaled audibly, satisfied with his small victory. Ignoring the smell of the carcasses, he returned to the spot where he had been sitting and reentered his meditative state. Just before he was forced to break his connection, Carver had detected something…something big, and if it behaved anything like the maalraas did, it would be come to him as well. All it needed was a beacon.

* * *

Jaq was charging through the jungle covering the valley wall, headed towards the remains of the infiltrators' camp, when he felt Silas' Force echo return with renewed vigor. While he was prepared for the echo's return, the effect it had on him was the same as before. It was like being injected with concentrated adrenaline. His heartbeat pounded in his head, his pace quickened, and he was overcome with an irresistible urge tear something to shreds.

Kelborn hadn't caught up with Jaq yet; if anything, the distance between them was increasing. However, Jaq had no intention of slowing down. In his current mindset, he no longer regarded Kelborn as an ally; although he wasn't an enemy either. More accurately, Jaq no longer regarded the Mandalorian at all. Kelborn's role in their bombardment of the infiltrators' base camp was all but forgotten, as were the hours' worth of banter they exchanged during their hike from the Mandalorian's camp.

The only things that did matter to Jaq were the group of people hiding in the jungle and his overwhelming desire to slaughter them all. He was in enough control of himself to come up with a plan for finding the infiltrators and, on some level, pity them; had he not been able to convince himself that they were more appealing targets, he would currently be heading for Silas and possibly his own death. Sy wasn't one to pull punches, even on a good day, and he definitely never held back when he was being attacked. True they were comrades, but Jaq seemed lost in his aggression, like some rabid animal, and if Sy couldn't find a way to bring him out of it, Jaq was certain Silas would kill him. Or at least, that is what he chose to believe, what he had to believe, to keep himself from turning around.

The air was thick with the smells of smoke and destruction as Jaq plowed into the valley clearing. Before advancing too far from the edge of the jungle, he wanted to stop and check his surroundings. Ahead of him was the line of auto-turrets; their rotating barrels just barely visible over the knee-high grass. Any mines in the area would be completely hidden from view. But his legs weren't cooperating with him; Jaq was still running at full throttle. _Stop, stop, stop, STOP!!_ Finally, his legs went motionless. _What is wrong with me?_ he asked himself. He looked down to see his hand was fidgeting in anticipation. _It's like I don't have control over my own body._

"_You don't...,"_ a female voice echoed in his head.

"Wha-?" The reply was so sudden and brief, Jaq almost didn't recognize it as Kreia's. _What did you do, you wrinkled old hag?_ There was no response. "Damn her," he growled. "I'll show that witch who controls me." He took a few uneasy steps forward. His mind and heart rate raced, his muscles twitched and tensed, even his ears popped; his whole body was protesting his slow pace. But Jaq fought to maintain control of himself. He forced his breathing to even and his thoughts to slow. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate; he was looking for the rhythmic energy pulses of motion-detection sensors sweeping their immediate vicinity. After a couple of minutes, Jaq opened his eyes and let out a half-frustrated growl; he didn't detect any mines, but he wasn't completely certain there weren't any in the area. The echo was still screaming in his head, and he may have just been too distracted to notice them.

Unfortunately his caution was quick to surrender, and Jaq found himself making his way towards the camp. He did manage to cross the field without incident, though that fact was lost to him by the time he passed the auto-turrets. As Jaq surveyed the infiltrators' camp, he noticed that despite the havoc his earlier bombardment had caused, the camp itself was more or less intact. Although most of the tent canopies had burned away, the tables and supply crates looked relatively untouched. The power generator had been completely destroyed save for a mangled chunk of metal that had once been its base.

Bodies were scattered throughout the camp. Some of the soldiers were severely burned, even charred; others had bled out from fatal wounds. Jaq knelt down next to a body of an Onderonian soldier to get a closer inspection. The cause of death was apparent: the soldier was missing his left leg, and the dried blood staining the grass was a clear sign he bled to death. Jaq furrowed his eyebrows; something about this body was amiss. The buttons on the shirt had been ripped off, and the sides were pushed slightly apart, but other than that, the uniform was unmolested. Jaq reached his hand into the open uniform and found…nothing. _This guy's been picked...clean._ He checked the other pockets just to be sure. Sure enough, the soldier's sidearm, credits, communicator, and, judging by the slight discoloration around the eyes, goggles were gone; the body had been field-stripped. _I wonder when they did this? _

Standing back up, Jaq resumed his exploration of the camp. Ahead of him, the Onderonian troop transport was leaning on its side away from him; its T-shaped hull kept the ship from falling completely. The fires inside the cockpit still smoldered, pushing a trail of smoke out the transport's windows. The stern loading ramp was sticking out, exposing the empty bowels of the vessel. Undoubtedly everything of value not charred by the internal fires had already been removed. Jaq moved around the loading ramp just to make sure. _These guys work quick. I didn't think they'd come back so..._ Jaq froze; a beam of light was sweeping the ground near the bow of the transport. A few seconds later, another one joined it. He instinctively ducked out of view and pressed himself flush against the hull.

After couple of seconds, he slowly peered around the corner and spotted two Onderonian soldiers, one male, one female, milling around the camp. The male soldier was towing a small cargo hauler behind him. Jaq couldn't help but smile as he watched them, but it vanished the instant he saw them turn in his direction. He hurdled over the loading ramp, slid himself into the darkest shadow he could find, and hoped it would be enough to stay hidden until he was ready to strike.

"…t's get out of here, Hara," whispered the male solder. "We've already got more than we need for right now."

Jaq watched the two soldiers walk past, oblivious to his presence. That damned echo was screaming at him again, ordering him to take them out right then. But Jaq stayed his hand, forcing himself to remember the bigger picture.

"We need to get everything we can now," the female soldier countered in a much louder voice. "We know the Mandies know where our landing site is. How long do you think it'll be before they show up?"

"That's why I want to leave right now," replied the male soldier. "How do you know they're not already here?"

"You are such a baby, Danten," said Hara, shaking her head. "I know they're not here because we haven't been attacked yet. As long as we're still breathing, the Mandies haven't gotten here yet. Understand?"

_So she's the smart one. _When Jaq decided the two soldiers were more interested in their conversation than in their surroundings, he silently vaulted back over the loading ramp and continued observing them.

"That doesn't make me feel better," said Danten.

"Aww, does someone need a hug?" The woman shifted closer to her teammate.

"Oh, get off," said Danten, shrugging her away. "Let's just finish this and get going."

Jaq waited until the solders had walked off a little more before moving himself. He crept backward to where the side of the transport dug into the ground. From this angle, the ship looked more like a steep ramp and the extended command tower: a nook that could possibly oversee the entire valley. He shucked the outer layer of his Grey Jedi Robe, revealing his double-bladed hilt hanging from his right hip and a small Watchman pistol he picked up on Nar Shaddaa tucked in a holster on his left hip. Jaq folded the outer layer and held it under his arm; he didn't want to risk a sudden gust of wind blowing it and his cover. Then, as quietly as possible, Jaq crawled up the side of the fallen transport, finding foot and handholds in uneven bulkhead seams, signal light fixtures, even a laser turret, towards the bridge tower. The tower offered just over half a meter of room to maneuver and the steep angles forced him to stay flat against the hull, but there was sufficient space to move without the fear of slipping.

By the time Jaq had sidled up to the edge of the hull and relocated the two soldiers, they were already headed away from the campsite. Judging by their pace, it was clear they were eager to get out of the open. _Like I'm gonna let _that_ happen. _He pulled the Watchman pistol from its holster and took aim. _If I take him out, that woman might decide to shoot back, so..._ He trained the blaster on the female soldier and tried to line up the shot, but it was difficult. He was beyond the effective range for a weapon of this size, he had substandard scope, and that damned echo was making his hands tremor slightly. Fortunately, he was still a crack shot, not to mention he had opened up the pistol some time ago and made some special modifications to it. Jaq held his breath and started to pull the trigger…the echo stopped. His mind suddenly fell silent, catching him by surprise. His index finger instantly released the trigger instead of squeezing it fully, a reflex he taught himself during his days as a Sith assassin. Jaq smiled and closed his eyes for a few seconds, reveling in the inner peace he now enjoyed, then opened them, aimed, and fired.

The tranquility filling the early morning valley was shattered by what sounded more like a discharging laser cannon than a blaster pistol. Even on Jaq's end, the pistol sounded different, deeper. It was the byproduct of his modifications; he had replaced both the firing chamber and power pack, resulting in a larger, hotter, and louder burst of plasma. Jaq rolled out of view before he could actually verify if he hit his target, but the loud string of panicked curses in the distance was all the proof he needed. He peered around the corner and saw the male soldier squatting near this dead partner, trying futilely to revive her.

_I need you to run now_, Jaq thought, smiling and raising his pistol again. His next shot missed the soldier by less than a meter, close enough to get his attention. The man jumped to his feet and looked around him, frantically searching for the person shooting at him. _I said run, damn it!_ Jaq fired again. That shot landed right at the soldier's feet, making him jump backwards and scaring him into forgetting about his fallen comrade and the cargo hauler. He started running for the trees, but he was headed in a different direction from before. _That's it; show me_ _where to go._ He fired off a couple more shots just to make sure the soldier was running in the right direction._ Yep. He's definitely making a beeline towards his buddies. Thanks for the directions, pal._ Jaq squeezed the trigger one more time, dropping the soldier just before he made it to the trees.

After giving himself a mental pat on the back, Jaq slid down the hull of the toppled transport and started heading over to where he shot the male soldier. He was halfway there when a stream of blaster fire streaked past him. He raised his pistol and turned; there was something red running towards him. _That's a Mandalorian. What...?_ Slowly, bits and pieces of his memory of the past day returned to him. _Why is he shooting at me?_ he thought, lowering his pistol. By then, Kelborn was well within hearing range. "Where have you been?"

Kelborn slowed down as he finished his approach. "Trying to catch up to you," he replied, somewhat out of breath. "Is this your definition of scouting ahead?"

"Huh? When did I say that?" asked Jaq. Suddenly he realized just how little in control of himself he had been in over whatever length of time had passed since he woke up. He remembered all of what he did since he left the overlook, but it felt like he was missing the context. At some point, he had a few minutes of near-clarity, but it hadn't occurred to him to ask himself why he was doing what he was doing, so he just kept going.

"Right after I told you not to go too far into the jungle by yourself," said Kelborn. "Thanks for listening to me, by the way."

"Well, you managed to catch up just fine." Jaq felt a twinge of irritation coming the Mandalorian.

"Right; you do that again, and I won't miss next time."

Jaq smiled. "Oh, so you weren't trying to shoot me after all. That's reassuring."

Kelborn chuckled. "The thought did cross my mind, especially with the way you were acting before you took off. You seem okay now, though. What happened to you, by the way?"

Jaq hesitated, trying to find someway to answer the Mandalorian's question in a way he'd understand. "It's…complicated. Just call it a Force thing." He wasn't sure if Kelborn would buy the answer. That was one of the problems with Mandalorians: they were almost impossible to read with their helmets on.

"A 'Force thing'?" repeated Kelborn. "Hm. Any chance this 'Force thing' might come back?"

"No." _Maybe._ That's when it hit him; why did the echo stop? Did something happen? _No. I'm not getting any bad feelings; that's new. Still, I wonder why..._

"You sure about that?" Kelborn couldn't help but notice his ally had gone silent again, just like before.

Jaq perked up at the question; the Mandalorian seemed to have misread him. "Yeah. I was just putting a couple of 2s together. Nothing major."

"Right," said Kelborn, only half-convinced. "So, did you find out anything useful?"

"As a matter of fact," answered Jaq, "I did." He pointed over Kelborn's left shoulder. "That cargo hauler there contains all the supplies they left behind when they abandoned their camp." He turned and pointed at the dead male soldier. "And that guy was running in the direction of their new camp when I sniped him."

Kelborn looked in the direction of the fresh corpse then back to Jaq. "How could you tell?"

Jaq motioned for the Mandalorian to follow him, and they headed over to the body. "Well besides the fact that he was running like he was scared shitless," said Jaq, kneeling to inspect the corpse, "he was going around my shots, not just away from them. That tells me he was trying to get somewhere, somewhere more specific than just into the jungle."

The Mandalorian was genuinely impressed. "Heh. I take back what I said. You can scout as far ahead as you can get."

Jaq turned his attention to the jungle ahead. "I don't think that'd be a good idea after this point." He held up a comlink. "If they don't already know these two are dead…"

"…Then they will when they fail to check in."

"They may send out a patrol or two to look for them or to recover the hauler," said Jaq, rising to his feet. "If we run across any, we'll know we're still going in the right direction."

Kelborn started towards the jungle. "It might be a good idea to interrogate the first patrol we find. That way we won't have to hold back when we hit their new camp."

Jaq nodded in agreement and followed Kelborn back into the underbrush.

to be continued...

Author's End Note: I'll do my best to be more productive in the future, but it's so hard to concentrate on the current chapter when I keep getting new ideas for future ones. Here are some quotes from future chapters to illustrate my point.

-Mandalore: "I'll give you three seconds to explain why you should still be breathing in four."-

-Malvolis: "DAMN KAVAR and DAMN TOBIN!!"-

-Malvolis: "I don't expect much from you at all. And frankly, I don't care about your opinions of me or my actions. Do not mistake my curiosity for an acceptance of judgment; I've had my fill."

Mandalore: "And I thought _I_ had contempt."-

-Malvolis: "Mandalore! Shoot the crew! _Shoot the crew!!_"-

-Jaq: "Hey Silas! We have a 'Pubie in the line! Sounds like he wants to chat."

Silas: "Tell him we're a little busy right now."

Jaq: "He says he's an admiral."

Silas: "Then tell him we're busy right now, _sir_!"-

-HK: "Proud statement: Master, I would be honored to stand beside you in the impending bloodbath. You are a true role model for all meatbags in the galaxy. If I had ocular fluid tubes, they would be excreting liquid at this very moment."-


	9. The Hunted

Disclaimer: I do not have any legal rights to make a profit using these characters, except in my dreams...

Author's Note: Surprise, surprise. I have the next installment ready for your enjoyment. I've been writing up a storm recently, and as I passed the 6000 word mark _again_, I realized that I'm dealing with another enormous chapter. It seems like no matter how many times I cut these chapters in half, they keep getting bigger. Oh well.

Chapter 9: The Hunted

As with the maalraas before, Carver detected the zakkeg's approach through the Force long before his normal senses did. And, like the maalraas, the armored beast plowed into the small clearing with all the subtlety of an orbital bombardment. Carver took a few steps backward while studying the charging animal; its momentum alone would be enough to crush every bone in his body, and the large spines sprouting from its shell meant that side glances were possibly just as fatal as getting hit head on. Carver smiled; he had no room for error in this battle. He took another step and found his back against a small tree. Looking up, he saw a few branches that looked like they would support him. He looked back down in time to see the zakkeg open its massive jaws, ready to bite him in half. Seconds before they met, Carver launched himself up, perched on one of the thicker branches, then jumped to an adjacent tree. The branch he landed on was narrower than the first so he leaned his hand against the trunk for extra balance. Looking down, Carver was not at all surprised to see the zakkeg collide with the tree he had just been in, but he was caught a little off guard when the beast smashed _through_ it.

_So this is a zakkeg_, Carver thought, a small frown appearing on his face. _Hm; I thought it would be larger. _He watched the armor-plated beast swing its head around trying to relocate him and his frown disappeared; even without the echo to motivate it, the zakkeg was a highly aggressive animal. And fast. It looked to be about twice as the size and weight of an adult boma, and yet it moved at about the same pace as one. _Cavok said its hide was tough; I wonder..._

Silas ignited his red saber and swung it in an arc over his head, cleaving a nearby branch. Instead of letting the long, nearly 30-centimeter-thick limb fall, Carver held it up with three left fingers and the Force. After a two-second pause, he brought his hand down, and the branch went flying towards the zakkeg. Upon impact with the zakkeg's spiky shell, the branch splintered as it ground itself against the armored hide; the force of the blow and the constant grinding managed to just barely push the beast a few centimeters to the side. Once his wooden weapon was little more than a pile of chips on the ground, Carver heard the beast growl in frustration and anger. Success! He managed to piss it off even further. He let out a chuckle when the zakkeg turned to face him and let out a threatening roar. Carver answered the beast's roar with a four-fingered blast of the Force.

The zakkeg hunkered down as the blast wave hit it. As the seconds ticked by, it only gave up a handful of centimeters, but on the whole, it was unaffected by the assault. When the shockwave subsided, it let out another roar.

Another smile tugged at the right side of Carver's mouth. This wasn't going to be so easy after all. Good. He hopped off his branch, holding his red saber out to the side, and let gravity pull him down and his blade through the tree limb. As he fell, he fired it at the zakkeg's head. He made a three-point landing just as the limb finished smashing itself against the beast's forehead. The zakkeg had had enough. Letting out one final loud growl, it charged Carver.

Instead of jumping into another tree, Carver stepped in and readied his blade. The zakkeg was within biting distance in a matter of seconds, but Carver managed to twist around the snapping jaws just before he lost his arm. His first strike was a heavy thrust at the zakkeg's shoulder, but to his surprise, his lightsaber refused to penetrate the armored hide. With surprising agility, the zakkeg turned to him and opened its jaws. Carver jumped back and swung at the predator's teeth, hoping to remove its more dangerous weapons. That attack was just as unsuccessful as the previous one. The scales around the mouth were even harder than the ones on its back, and its teeth were as strong as its spines. Carver's lips curled into a snarl. _What sort of beast is this?_

Carver activated his silver blade and rammed it into the beast's snout while keeping the red saber pressed against its lip, if only to keep the zakkeg from getting closer to him. He was sure he was burning soft tissue inside the nostril, but nothing vital, and the now-flailing zakkeg was threatening to relieve him of his buried weapon. Carver withdrew the saber and jumped back several meters; he needed a new plan fast. The zakkeg charged him again, and Carver returned to his first plan for the moment: using the trees to stay out of reach. But this plan wasn't perfect; the zakkeg, although non-sentient, was far from a dumb beast. The moment he found a suitable branch to jump to, Carver had to quickly find and relocate to another branch before the zakkeg smashed through the trunk and brought the whole tree down. Though he was putting more distance between them with each jump, Carver found himself at a loss for an attack plan. _The great Darth Malvolis_, he thought, _put on the defensive by an animal. _Disgusting

After 30 more seconds of tree-hopping, Carver was done running. Instead of vaulting to the next tree, he stopped and turned to face the rampaging zakkeg below. He took a long breath and braced himself for impending impact, but seconds before the zakkeg crashed into the tree, Carver detected a presence in the Force. Something, or someone, else was approaching him…quickly; he had been too distracted to notice it before. The shock of the zakkeg breaking through the tree trunk was as violent as it was quick; Carver almost lost his footing. However, he managed to ride out the tree's fall to the ground, even control where it landed: directly behind the base of the zakkeg's skull. The impact itself didn't actually kill the beast, but it did hit with enough force to momentarily stun it and pin it. Carver's dark grin appeared after he rolled off the fallen tree; it had rolled backward slightly, and the top of the tree was now caught under a branch coming off a nearby tree. To his right, the zakkeg was coming out of its daze and starting to struggle to throw off the dead weight holding it in place. Carver made a pistol with his right hand and fired an arc of Force lightning into the zakkeg's eye. The beast let out a pained roar as the electricity scorched its iris and burned the optic nerve. Within moments, the eye was dead.

Carver looked on with crossed arms as the zakkeg redoubled its efforts to free itself. As the tree began yielding to the beast's thrashing, he crept deeper into its blind spot. With a loud crack, the tree finally broke in two and the zakkeg charged forward, bellowing with enough fury to rival Carver's.

"Now _that_ is blind aggression," Carver said to himself. He activated his red lightsaber and prepared to strike when a small flash of light above caught his eye. Looking up he saw a red ball of light flying through the air towards his position, or rather towards the zakkeg. _Plasma grenade!_ Carver reached out and caught the explosive sphere and guided it through the rest of its flight, bringing it down against the zakkeg's right shoulder. The explosion ignited everything in a two meter radius. As the zakkeg writhed in a new wave of pain, Carver stared into the distance, trying to find the person who had thrown the explosive, but it was too dark to see. Channeling the Force in his eyes, he could make out two Force signatures roughly 20 meters in the distance.

Before he could positively identify the signatures, new movement from the zakkeg diverted his attention. The beast had turned its back to him in its wild flailing. Carver smiled as his eyesight returned to normal; this was the opportunity he had been waiting for. He deactivated his saber as he charged the zakkeg and reversed his grip on the hilt. He swung his arm over, ready to execute his attack when the zakkeg spun in his direction. On reflex, Carver jumped.

_Alright; new plan. _At the height of his jump, Carver held his saber with both hands, preparing to bury the blade into the zakkeg's head. But that plan, too, was scrubbed when, at the last second, the zakkeg took a couple of steps forward. Not wanting to impale himself on the spines covering the beast's shell, Carver slowed his descent with a directed Force blast; the wave had a secondary effect of extinguishing the surrounding fires. Carver touched down on the zakkeg's back and immediately grabbed one of the spines as the predator tried to throw him off. Carver hunkered down to lower his center of gravity and make it easier to stay in place. Fighting the erratic movements of the animal below him, Carver slowly made his way up the zakkeg's back. When he reached the neck, Carver gripped his lightsaber as tightly as possible. With his left hand, he grabbed the zakkeg's right ear and pulled sideways. The animal jerked his head around in the direction of the pain and, for a moment, looked Carver in the eye.

_Time for you to die._ Carver swung his right arm out and plunged his lightsaber down towards the zakkeg's eye. Half a second before impact, Carver activated the blade. The momentum of his swing combined with the force of the extending blade was more than enough to break through the armored scales and pierce the thinnest area of beast's skull. Carver's lightsaber was buried to the hilt, and he leapt off the animal's back, not wanting to be anywhere near its death throes. It took all of five seconds for the zakkeg to finally succumb to the injury and die. His deactivated lightsaber was about a meter away from where the beast stopped moving; with a quick gesture, the metal hilt flew into his hand.

He walked over to the dead zakkeg and placed his hand on its forehead. _It was a good fight._ In a single swift move, he severed the ear and tucked it in his belt. As he started back the way he came, a pair of figures dropping from the tree. Carver instantly recognized the two women and smiled. The red-haired Huntress in her black mesh jacket and white-haired Brianna wearing the silver underlay of her Echani armor stood in front of him. _Fire and ice,_ Silas thought, remembering Bao-Dur's comment back on Nar Shaddaa. "What are you two doing out here?" he asked them, his smile disappearing.

"We..we heard you," answered Brianna.

Silas furrowed his eyebrows. "You what?"

"We heard you," Brianna repeated, "in our minds."

"Did I wake you?" asked Silas.

"No," replied the two women. Mira continued, "I was in the garage working on my lightsaber with Bao-Dur when I heard you."

"And I was showing Davrel how to get out of a headlock," said Brianna.

"This late?" asked Silas.

Mira shook her head. "I don't know about her, but I'm still on Nar Shaddaa time." Brianna seconded Mira's statement with a nod.

A smile tugged at Silas' mouth. "What exactly did you hear?"

"You were summoning us," answered Brianna. "We were worried you might be in trouble."

Mira smirked. "I wasn't so worried, but I didn't want her running off into the jungle by herself."

Brianna shot her a look. "As I recall, you were the one who said he could be hurt and we needed to move faster."

"It felt weird," said Mira. "All I could think about was getting to you as quickly as possible."

"That was true for me as well," said Brianna.

"What about Kreia?"

"She chose to remain on the _Ebon_ _Hawk_," said Brianna, sounding relieved and annoyed at the same time.

"She said she doubted she could 'keep up with those but a fraction of her age'," said Mira with a smirk.

"Somehow I doubt she would have had difficulty," replied Brianna.

"It is her choice," said Silas, wanting to end their train of thought; now was not the time for this discussion. "As for the rest of us, I suggest you two get some sleep. There is little telling how long we will be here. Might as well synch to their time." Both women nodded in agreement.

"Are you coming with us to the _Hawk_?" asked Brianna.

"I am afraid not," answered Silas. "I have a bet with a Mandalorian that I have yet to win."

"May I come with you?"

Silas gave her a warm smile. "Why not." He gestured for Brianna to follow him. "I assume you can find your way back to the ship, Mira."

"Yeah. It's just a straight line that way," Mira replied, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. "You know which way you're going?"

Silas looked at Brianna, then back at Mira. "More or less."

Mira returned the wry grin. "Well then, have a good night." She turned and started walking.

Brianna and Silas started walking as well. "You do know the direction we need to go?" she asked him.

"Or course," he replied. "South."

* * *

A deep, bone-chilling wail echoed through the pitch black jungle. The source of this cry was a lone, young adult Onderonian male lying facedown in the trap of two of the most intelligent and ruthless hunters in the area. And they were toying with their newest victim.

"You think his buddies heard him that time?" Jaq asked Kelborn, wearing a dark grin.

"Maybe," said his Mandalorian ally, "but I doubt it. He still hasn't told us how far away his camp is."

"Well then," replied Jaq, reaching forward, "I guess I'll just have to make him scream," Jaq grabbed the hilt of his red double-blade, which appeared to be standing on the back of the Onderonian's right thigh, "_louder!_"and twisted.

The soldier let out another feral scream as the white-hot lightsaber blade running through his leg brushed against sensitive muscles and nerves, scorching them. He knew he was going to die here. His outstretched arms were broken, his right arm in two places, and some of his fingers were crushed; he couldn't even push himself onto his knees, much less defend himself. But even if he could, a strange pressure in his lower back told him he'd better not flex his spine for the next few years. And movement from the waist down was also cut off with that lightsaber in his right leg. Even if he just barely shifted his left leg, he could feel it in his right one. The rest of his wounds: the cuts, the bruises, the broken nose; they were all mostly cosmetic, although even they hurt like hell. The proverbial icing on the cake occurred about a minute ago when, after one particularly blood-curdling scream, he realized tears were rolling down his cheeks.

Despite the amount of raw pleasure Jaq felt dusting off his old interrogation techniques, there was a small voice silently yelling for him to stop. It was the same voice that almost convinced him to jump ship on Nar Shaddaa, on Telos and Dantooine as well for that matter. It was always sending up red flags about Silas, Kreia, the mission they were on, and his own well-being. The voice was at its loudest when Silas massacred the Serrocco gang for no other reason than the thugs didn't like his terms. There had been no negotiations, no bargaining. Jaq had blinked and found Silas' blade buried in the leader's gut. Before he had time to process the situation, he was drawing his blasters and aiming for the nearest Serroccans; the rest of the battle was largely a blur. Once it was over, Jaq had felt a little unnerved by the whole thing, but his worries had been set aside when Silas had him examine the abandoned airspeeder he found, then forgotten completely when the refugees thanked them for their help.

Every day since then, however, that voice was getting easier and easier to ignore.

Jaq grabbed the young soldier's dark hair and pulled his head up. "Now, tell me," he began, "how many people are still alive at your camp?"

The soldier could only look at him with one eye; the left one was too bruised to open fully. "Ss-ssss-ssscrew…you," he managed to force out.

Jaq chuckled and shoved the solder's head back into the ground. "Sorry," he said, "but that's not a number." He swung his foot back, ready to kick the Onderonian in the side of his head.

"Wait!" Kelborn interjected, placing a hand against Jaq's chest to stop him. "If you hit him there, his jaw might lock up, and we won't be able to get anything out of him."

Jaq looked down at the soldier. "You hear that?" he asked. "You get a pass this round. I suggest you do the smart thing and start talking." The soldier's reply was a long, shallow groan.

"How about an easier question?" said Kelborn, kneeling down. "Who sent you?"

The soldier didn't bother looking up. "Go to hell, Mando," he said, voice slightly muffled by the dirt.

Kelborn smiled under his helmet and chuckled. "Kid," he said, "we're already there. So why don't you save us all some time and you same pain and just tell us what we want to know?"

The Onderonian tilted his head to look up at the Mandalorian with his good eye. "You think I'm stupid, bucket-head? Doesn't matter if I talk or not; you're gonna kill me either way, right?" Standing up, Kelborn couldn't come up with a response. "I thought so," said the soldier, breaking his gaze. "And anyway, I'd rather die than betray my comrades."

Jaq glanced at Kelborn. "Touching," he said, just loud enough for the Mandalorian to hear. "My turn again." Jaq knelt down and pulled the soldier's head up and looked straight at him. "I'm going to give you one more chance to talk voluntarily before I make you."

"I'd like to see you try," replied the Onderonian.

"Alright," said Jaq, shifting to sit more comfortably. His grip on the soldier's head tightened as he stared into the soldier's good eye. "What makes you think we'd kill you?"

The question caught the other two men by surprise. "What?" asked the Onderonian.

Jaq's smile looked almost warm. "So I roughed you up a bit," he said. His tone had changed as well. It was almost hypnotic. "That doesn't mean we want to kill you."

Kelborn watched with amused intrigue as the soldier squeezed his eye shut and gritted his teeth; he didn't quite know what his ally was doing, but he had an idea. He just hadn't seen a Jedi interrogation done quite like this before.

"Eyes open, kid," Jaq commanded. Within a heartbeat, the young soldier was looking straight at him, even his bad eye was half-open. "That's better. So, ready to talk yet?"

"I've got..nothing..to say..to you," said the Onderonian.

"You're acting like I'm your enemy here, kid," said Jaq in a smooth tone. "I'm not. If anything, I can actually help you."

"…What?"

Jaq gave him a half-grin. "Yeah. Just answer a few questions, and I promise we won't have to hurt you anymore."

The Onderonian shook his head, but his gaze was fixed on Jaq. "No. I'm not..gonna say…anything."

"Why not? Did someone say you couldn't? Who? Who said you couldn't tell us anything?"

The young soldier looked like he was trying to close his eyes but couldn't. "He..no…no…I can't…"

"Why not, kid?" Jaq pressed. "Who was it?"

"Ke..no!"

"Come on, kid; one name. That's all I want; just one name. What was it, kid? Tell me; tell me the name; just one name, kid; say it! Say his name!"

Ker…Kernn…no!"

'_Ker'?_ thought Kelborn. _Who's 'Ker'? Ker...Kern...Kern! _Colonel_. Colonel...Tobin!_ "Tobin!" he announced.

Jaq looked back at Kelborn. "Colonel Tobin?" Kelborn nodded. Jaq looked back at the soldier. "Was that who it was, kid? Was it Colonel Tobin? Hm? Was it?" The soldier nodded once. "And how many more people are still at your camp?" The Onderonian hesitated, and Jaq squeezed his grip.

"Eight!" answered the soldier.

"There, see? That wasn't so hard." He reached out with his other hand and patted the young man on the cheek. "Now for my end of the deal." He grabbed the soldier's chin and twisted; there was a soft snap, and the Onderonian's body went limp.

"I thought you said you weren't going to hurt him," said Kelborn sarcastically, watching Jaq get back to his feet.

Jaq gave him a wry grin. "I didn't. Breaking someone's neck is painless…I think. I mean, no one's ever complained to me before."

"So, eight soldiers left," mused Kelborn. "I wonder how many of them are Sith."

"I saw a couple of dead Sith back at the landing site," said Jaq, "but most of them were Onderonian." He paused. "What I _didn't_ see, though, were bars or stripes on any of the uniforms; that Onderonian sergeant and the Sith lieutenant are still alive."

"Well, that probably means they're all in one group and ripe for the picking."

"Not to mention probably expecting us."

"Meh! Onderonians on alert just means don't step on any sticks as you close in. Or better yet, step on one and listen to them scream like stuck mynocks."

Jaq couldn't help but chuckle at the joke.

"So, which way?" asked Kelborn.

Jaq focused the Force through his eyes and scanned the night jungle. He picked up a faint sign of life coming from the east; the Sith lieutenant had a small presence in the Force. He didn't have enough potential to develop any useful abilities, but he could be tracked. "That way," said Jaq, pointing.

* * *

"Sergeant," said the Sith lieutenant, running up to the senor Onderonian, "we've lost contact with another one of your men."

"Dammit," growled the sergeant. He looked over at the other soldiers gathered around the small campfire; a couple of them had noticed their conversation. "I told you I wanted one of your men to go with him," he told the lieutenant.

"Sergeant," replied the lieutenant, "we can't afford to lose one of my elite shock troops. Not now."

The sergeant hadn't failed to notice the emphasized "my" in his statement; his eye had twitched when he heard it, and a long stream of curses flew through his mind. "Lieutenant, with all due respect, we can't afford to segregate our troops if we hope to survive until we reach the archaeologists' landing site."

"Sergeant," said the Sith in a condescending tone, "our job is to keep the Mandalorians busy until the archaeologists finish, not lead the Mandalorians right to them!"

"Lieutenant," said the sergeant, almost bewildered, "you can't possibly be thinking what I think you're thinking."

"Orders are orders, sergeant, and our orders are clear."

"Either you're stupid, or you're _really_ stupid."

"Sergeant!" said the Sith. "I am in charge here, and you will respect the chain of command."

The sergeant's gaze intensified. "This is your first time on Dxun, isn't it?" he asked, voice softening. He got up and gestured for the lieutenant to follow him. Once they were well away from the troops, he stopped and turned to the Sith. "Lieutenant, I must protest this plan of yours."

The Sith folded his arms. "Noted, sergeant. But I disagree. If we turn and attack now, we'll catch them off-guard. We will have the advantage."

"Are you insane? Counterattack?" The sergeant pointed back at the soldiers, half of whom were watching their exchange with interest, even if they couldn't hear it. "These men are too tired and too ill-equipped to launch any sort of attack. And I don't know about you, but I know my men well enough to know that, right now, they are more than a little nervous at the prospect of staring down a Mandalorian rifle. I suggest we keep moving and keep the Mandalorians from picking up our trail."

"The Mandalorians have already picked up our trail, sergeant. The death of your recon soldier proves that. If we attack them, we can fight them on our terms."

"We've been fighting on their terms ever since we arrived, lieutenant. The bombardment of our landing site proves _that_!"

The Sith stepped closer. "Sergeant, you are overstepping your bounds."

Although the Sith was over half a head taller than him, the sergeant wasn't intimidated. "Son, I've had more years of combat than you've had years of life. Don't think you know better than me."

"Sergeant, when we get back…"

"We won't _be_ getting back unless we keep going _away_ from the Mandalorians, you arrogant idiot!"

"Sergeant, you are no longer part of this mission and you will keep your mouth shut from now on, or you will be shot. Is that clear?" The sergeant went silent, and the Sith turned to started towards the other soldiers. "Now, I'm going to start preparing our attack plan," he said, walking away. "You just sit quietly and…"

The sergeant pulled out his sidearm and fired. The Sith crumpled to the ground, injured but not dead. "I'm not going to let you throw away the lives of my men in some fool's charge." He fired again; the light behind the Sith's eyes faded. The sergeant looked up and saw the Onderonian soldiers holding the Sith soldiers at gunpoint. Two of the Sith soldiers managed to grab a rifle, but they had two pointed back at them. "Put 'em down," he told the group, waving his hand for emphasis. "Put 'em down, dammit!" Slowly the Onderonians lowered their weapons; the Sith soon followed suit. He stepped over one of the logs serving as a make-shift bench, sat down, stared at the campfire, and let out a long breath. "Enough people have died today."

"Sir, why did you shoot our lieutenant?" asked one of the Sith in a careful tone.

"Because, son," answered the sergeant, "he was planning on running you down the barrel of a Mandalorian blaster rifle; all of you. He just didn't want to accept that our mission was over."

"So what do we do now?" asked one of the Onderonians.

"Well, we know about where the other team landed; we should probably head in that direction."

"Sorry, ladies," came an unknown voice, "but you're not going anywhere."

All the men sitting around the fire were on their feet in a second and scanning their dimly lit surroundings. Judging by the loudness and clarity of the voice, the speaker was close…very close, but not Mandalorian. The next sound they heard was the snap-hiss of a lightsaber followed by quickly-silenced scream. One of the Sith slumped over, the red shaft of a lightsaber protruded from his stomach. Behind the dead man, a stealth field shimmered and dispelled, revealing a black-haired man in a gray robe. The man yanked his blade out of the Sith, and the body fell to the ground. An Onderonian soldier, one not struck with surprise, tried to raise his rifle only to be barraged by a steady stream of blaster fire coming from his left. Seconds later, a red-armored Mandalorian carrying a Heavy Repeater jumped down from the tree he was hiding in.

"Well, well, well," said the Mandalorian, sweeping his large blaster slowly back and forth, "look at what we have here. Jaq, what do you think?"

Jaq held his saber vertical and smiled. "I thought these were the soldiers we were looking for, but they don't look like much."

"Who's in charge here?" asked the Mandalorian.

"I am," answered the sergeant. He glanced over at the man holding the lightsaber, Jaq. He was looking back at him with both eyes, and his smile turned more sinister. "What do you want?"

"Well, originally," said Jaq, "we had planed on the two of us just wasting all of you, but we figured there was something more going on."

"So, we're considering exchanging answers for extended leases on life," said the Mandalorian. He pointed his rifle at the sergeant. "You answer our questions, and my friend here will let your men keep their heads."

The sergeant looked back over at Jaq; the smiling man's eyebrows jumped twice. "I have a question for you, if I may." The Mandalorian's silence was enough permission for him to continue. "Are there more of you?"

"Should we answer that?" Kelborn asked Jaq.

"Sure, why not," Jaq replied.

Kelborn turned back to the sergeant. "No," he said. "It's just us two. But don't get any funny ideas; between me and my friend here, you guys wouldn't last ten seconds."

"Alright," said the sergeant. "Deal." His eyebrows furrowed. "You two were behind that bombardment."

"This guy's smart," said Jaq.

"But, just you two?" asked the sergeant. "By yourselves? How?"

"We're not here to discuss our tactics," said Kelborn. "Why are you on Dxun?"

"Fine, then. Tobin sent us here as a distraction," answered the sergeant.

"For who?" asked Kelborn.

"Another team landed deeper in the jungle. Archaeologists, surveyors, Sith warriors."

"Lightsaber-carrying Sith are here, too?" asked Jaq.

"Yep," said the sergeant.

"Why?" Jaq asked.

"I can't tell you."

"That private you sent out earlier didn't want to say either," said Jaq. "But I managed to loosen his tongue…right before I snapped his neck."

The sergeant's eyes widened. "You killed Private Ghen? Why?"

"Our orders didn't mention anything about prisoners," said Kelborn, "and I doubt he would have been able to keep up with us. You're a sergeant, though; these men might survive with you."

"What are your orders?" said the sergeant.

"Investigate the ship that landed near the edge of our sensor perimeter," replied Kelborn, "assess the threat level of the infiltrators, and prevent all attempted assaults against the Mandalorian base camp."

"Those are pretty clear," said the sergeant. "Kind of like how ours _were_. Is there any way my men can walk out of this alive?"

"That depends on how well you answer the rest of our questions," answered Kelborn. "What is the mission of the other team? The one with the archaeologists."

"I don't know," the sergeant answered. "They didn't tell us."

Kelborn looked over at Jaq. The dark-haired man gave him a quick nod, signaling the Onderonian was being truthful. "Alright, what _do_ you know about them?"

"The man in charge is a Sith Lord calling himself Lord Rzaz. He works for another Sith Lord; never met him. I only know Rzaz because General Vaklu introduced me to him shortly before we left. General Vaklu said our job was to keep you busy until the archaeologists were done doing whatever they were up here to do."

"I guess that's two out of three, Kelborn," said Jaq, eying the sergeant expectantly.

"I guess," concurred Kelborn. "What assurances do I have that you won't attack our base?" he asked the sergeant.

"One: we don't have enough equipment to even consider a sneak attack, much less a frontal assault," answered the sergeant, raising a finger. "Two: we're neither crazy nor suicidal." He raised another finger. "Three…well, one and two pretty much say it all."

"Huh," said Kelborn. "What do you say Jaq?"

"Well, I trust them not to do anything stupid," the gray-robed man replied, "so I guess we can rule out them attacking us." Jaq watched the sergeant visible deflate slightly. "But, I was kinda hoping he'd tell us more."

"I can't," countered the sergeant. "I've hold you everything I know!"

"Yeah, see that's the problem," said Jaq, beginning a slow walk around the perimeter of standing soldiers. "You just don't know enough for me to want to let you leave with all your men." His dark smile widened. "So…" With one quick movement, he buried his blade into the soldier standing in front of him and yanked it back out. As the Onderonian doubled over and fell to the ground, the other soldiers started reaching for their weapons.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," said Kelborn, aiming at the sergeant's head. "We're almost done; don't do anything stupid now."

"He just murdered another one of my men!" yelled the sergeant.

Kelborn looked over at his ally. "Jaq?"

Jaq shrugged. "Just that one, that'll be enough; I'm done."

"Alright, listen up," said Kelborn, looking back at the Onderonian. "You've got ten seconds to disappear from my sight. If I see any of you on Dxun again, I won't hesitate to mow you all down. Got it?" All the soldiers nodded. "Good. I'll start counting. 1…"

The sergeant grabbed his pistol, and signaled for his men to grab their fallen comrades.

"2…"

The infiltrators scrambled to collect their gear.

"3…I should warn you, I have excellent vision. 4…"

The remaining soldiers hoisted their dead mates over their shoulders...

"5…"

...and started into the jungle.

"6…7…8…"

They picked up their pace as Kelborn neared the end of his count.

"9…"

The soldiers disappeared into the shadows.

"10!" Kelborn fired a few warning shots into the trees to emphasize his point. Looking down at the remains of the campsite, he noted that they left a few of their rifles. He signaled Jaq to pick up a few of them while he got the rest. Before leaving the area, he tossed dirt over the campfire to extinguish the flames. "Firebugs," he said.

"Well, I had fun; you?" asked Jaq.

"More or less," replied the Mandalorian. "Not quite how I imagined it, but we got the job done. Come on, let's head back."

"Finally," Jaq said with a small grin. "I'm starting to regret not getting more sleep."

to be continued...

Author's End Note: In the next chapter, you'll see what happens when Carver's anger is set loose. If you thought Jaq's been flirting with the Dark Side, so to speak, be patient. I promise I will deliver. And one of Carver's allies is going to make a very bad mistake...


	10. The Invaders

Disclaimer: I'm too tired to write a witty disclaimer right now, so I'll just say I don't own them.

Author's Note: This chapter is _looong_, even by my standards. 10000 words, but I_ really _wanted to get them off Dxun by the end of the chapter. And I did, so if you want to read this in one sitting, grab a snack and get comfortable. Also, I'm revealing Mira's unique lightsaber; I hope you think it's as creative as I did when first I thought it up.

Chapter 10: The Invaders

-4 hours later-

First light was just breaking through the jungle canopy as Silas and Brianna neared the perimeter checkpoint outside the Mandalorian base camp.

"All I am saying, Brianna, is that you should consider constructing a lightsaber," said Silas. "They are far more versatile than any vibroblade."

"I am well aware of a lightsaber's advantages," said Brianna, "but I do not need one. I know my blades well; they will be enough for me."

"Hm," said Silas, "very well. But should you change your mind…"

"You will be the first to know."

Silas' smile hid his mild displeasure. _So, she has not as broken from her oath to Atris as completely as I thought. Why did I believe it would be so easy?_

Ahead of them stood the three Mandalorians charged with guarding the checkpoint: one red-armored, two blue. Silas' smile became a genuine one for a few moments, then it faded when he noticed that red Mandalorian lacked a captain's rank insignia; this soldier was not Cavok.

_Some days I wish they weren't so wed to their armor,_ thought Silas as he approached the Mandalorians. "I'm looking for a captain," he announced. "Goes by the name 'Cavok'.

"The captain's off rotation right now," said the red Mandalorian. "He's getting some rack time."

"For how long?" asked Silas.

"The next four hours," answered the Mandalorian.

"Perfect," said Silas, flatly.

"Are you the one he was talking about? The one boasting he could kill a zakkeg?"

Carver gave him a half-grin. "I would not call it 'boasting,' but a zakkeg did come up in our conversation."

"You're back quick. What? You give up already?"

"Actually, no," Silas replied. He pulled back the left side of his outer robe and held up the severed ear. "Do me a favor, and give this to Cavok when he returns to his post." He noted a shift in the Mandalorian's posture: a little straighter, a little taller, and not as relaxed. Silas' half-grin appeared; he was still as adept at surprising Mandalorians as ever.

"Sure," said the Mandalorian, taking the ear. "I'll make sure he gets this."

"You will not try and take the credit, will you?" Silas asked, half-jokingly/half-warningly.

"Ha!" said the Mandalorian. "Cavok'd never believe I took down a zakkeg." Silas merely smiled at him. "Oh, by the way," he continued, "Seeing as how you'll be here a few days, Mandalore's set up some sleeping arrangements for you and your crew."

"Sleeping arrangements?" repeated Silas. "How generous."

"It's not much really; just a store room with a few cots. But there are enough sheets for eight, if some of you don't mind sleeping on the floor or on the crates. If you're interested, the building is on the opposite side of the barracks."

"We do have adequate facilities on our ship."

"Which I'm guessing is nowhere near here. It's a good idea to limit your time in the jungle, especially at night. You may have walked out this night, but I wouldn't recommend pushing your luck."

Silas gave the Mandalorian another half-smile. "I do not believe in luck."

"Fate then. Look, this is just an offer. We don't get many friendly visitors on Dxun, so we can't always offer the best accommodations."

_This one does not like to banter, apparently. _"Understandable. Very well, then. Relay my thanks to Mandalore. I shall inform the rest of my crew." With a final nod, Silas headed past the checkpoint with Brianna following close behind. When they entered the camp, he slowed to allow her to walk beside him. "Think you'll be able to handle sleeping on a cot?" he asked with a full grin.

"Considering I've been sleeping on a mattress of layered sheets in the cargo hold for two months," Brianna answered, returning his grin, "it will be a pleasant change."

Silas chuckled to himself; Brianna's distrust of Kreia was so strong, she would rather sleep on the floor in a different room than in a bed located in the same room as the old ex-Jedi. Mira had laid claim to one of the beds in the port quarters for herself shortly after she joined them, though Silas wasn't sure if it was out of boldness, a lack of familiarity with Kreia, or if she and Jaq had made some sort of clandestine wager. He was about to ask Brianna of her opinion of their newest recruit when a mechanical outburst caught his ear.

"-dalorian meatbags! I must have short circuited to believe you were capable of performing the required tasks!"

_HK_, thought Silas with a bemused grin. Looking around, he found the rust-hued assassin droid over by the quartermaster's shop. Standing around him were two blue-armored Mandalorians; one of them was trying to re-attach HK's lower left leg, and the other looked like he was trying to find the droid's off switch. _Unfortunately, no one can shut down HK-47 except HK-47._ Silas looked over at Brianna and found that she was enjoying the scene as well. "It is always more humorous when he is yelling at someone else, is it not?" he asked her. Her widened smile affirmed his inquiry, and he gestured for her to follow.

"Exclamation: Stop, stop, _stop_, you useless fleshbag! If you want to attach my leg, at least ensure the auxiliary servos are properly aligned…No, that is _not_ a gyro coupling. No, that is not one either! _That_ is a _hinge_. Ugh, Mandalorians cannot possibly be this inept."

"Having a few problems, HK?" asked Silas, strolling up to the kiosk.

The assassin droid rotated to face him. "Irritated statement: Master, I greatly overestimated these Mandalorian meatbags' abilities to facilitate proper maintenance."

"This would be a lot easier if we didn't have to deal with all the _noise_," said the Mandalorian holding HK's detached leg. Silas recognized the voice. He was the one working on the satellite console, Zuka.

"Insult: As if you could complete these procedures without my instruction," said HK.

"It is not usually a good idea to bite the hand that is feeding you, HK," said Silas, crossing his arms, "especially _while_ it is feeding you."

"Rebuttal: Master, these Mandalorians' skills are hardly laudable…Ow! Exercise more caution, meatbag, or I will use you for target practice!" The Mandalorian had forcefully reconnected the droid's leg; the intricate inner workings of the mechanical appendage slid unceremoniously into place. As an ironic reward, the Mandalorian had a pistol made by his own people aimed at his head.

"Stow it, HK," said Silas, half-warningly.

The assassin droid reacted almost instantly. "Resignation: Very well, Master," replied HK, lowering the weapon and sliding it back in the hidden compartment in his upper leg.

"You will have to forgive him," Silas told the Mandalorians, "He is a little touchy when it comes to 'meatbags' messing with his systems." The two Mandalorians looked back at him in a posture that screamed, _No shit!_ "The only one of my crew he will let touch him is our Iridonian tech."

"Statement: The Iridonian has proved he is qualified to repair machines, Master. I wouldn't trust the rest of them to refill my plasma tank."

"I rebuilt you, HK, and you do not even trust _me_ with repairs."

"Warning: Master, must I again bring up that electronic horror you installed into my system just three days after my reactivation?"

Silas' hand went to his face. "For the last time, HK, I didn't know. The Rodian did not tell me it was a pacifism program."

"Exclamation: E-e-exactly! You didn't know what the program was, and yet you still chose to install it. Therefore, your privileges have been revoked."

Thankfully, his hand was still covering his mouth when the smirk appeared after hearing the word "privileges" coming from the droid. "You are never going to let me live that down are you?"

"Answer: No." The droid slid off the crate and onto his feet. "Statement: Now, I must excuse myself, Master. I have to relay the details of my mission to the Mandalorian meatbag, Xarga."

Before HK got too far, Silas stopped him. "Not quite yet, HK." Silas turned to the Mandalorian. "Were you expecting any compensation?"

"Not really," said Zuka, "the droid brought back the phase-pulse converter, so I offered to help fix him as thanks."

HK emitted a soft buzz, but to Silas' trained ears, it sounded more like a scoff. His gaze drifted to the other Mandalorian. "What about you?"

"That's alright," said the other Mandalorian, sounding somewhat pleased with himself. "I've got it taken care of."

"And you are?" asked Silas.

"I'm Kex," replied the quartermaster. "This is my shop."

"Really?" said Silas. "Perhaps, I will come back later; we may be able to exchange a few things." Kex nodded once, and Silas gestured for Brianna and HK to follow. Once they were out of range of the two Mandalorians, Silas turned to his droid. "So how did your other mission go, HK?"

HK was silent for a couple of seconds. "Hesitant answer: Err…I managed to make it fun after all, Master."

A cautious smile appeared on Silas' face. "Well good. What was the mission?"

"Answer: I was to locate a missing Mandalorian scout by the name of Kumus and retrieve any intact equipment from his remains."

Silas raised his eyebrow. "Remains? Was he dead?"

"Answer: He was presumed as such, Master."

It was then that Brianna jumped into the conversation. "I assume then you did not find him dead."

HK stared at the space between the two organics. "Hesitant answer: No…but I quickly calculated that his death was imminent."

"So he is dead now?" asked Silas, pointing at the ground.

HK turned his head towards Silas. "Affirmation: Yes, Master; he is dead now."

"What was it that killed him?" asked Brianna.

"Hesitant far as I know,…an explosion. A magnificent explosion that vaporized the top third of the plateau he was standing on. I was in awe, Master."

Silas' smile dwindled by half. "What caused the explosion?" he asked, enunciating each word.

"Answer: Thorium charges, Master. The Mandalorian had primed too many explosives, and when they all went off, he was blasted into the jungle. Even if he had managed to survive such a spectacular detonation, the odds of him surviving the subsequent flight and fall are infinitesimally small."

"Did the explosion cause your injuries?" asked Silas.

"Negative: Oh, no, Master. The explosion agitated some of the local wildlife. My efforts to fend them off caused the damage."

He gave the droid a hard stare. "HK, you will tell Xarga that you were unable to locate Kumus, but judging from the amount of damage done at the site, it was highly likely that he died when he _accidentally_ set off his charges. Beyond that, you will say nothing more. Do you understand?"

If droids could hang their shoulders, HK would have done so. "Weary affirmation: Yes, Master."

"Good." He pointed over his shoulder, directing the droid to move on. Silas and Brianna started walking as well. Looking over, he saw Brianna wearing a slightly confused expression on her face.

"So he-," she began.

"Yes," he replied.

"And he just-"

"Very likely."

"But why did-"

"I do not…want…to know why."

Brianna let out a weary sigh. "You probably should have left him on the ship."

Silas gave her a wry grin. "Where would be the fun in that?"

It took only a couple of minutes for the two to find the barracks and the store room behind it. The only way in was a pair of large doors, making the storage building look like a short hangar. The sliding doors didn't open easily or quietly. The makeshift barracks were spartan, to say the least. The cots were merely long boxes covered by extremely thin mattresses.

"Mandalorian hospitality," said Silas, scanning the dimly lit interior. "Tired yet?" he asked Brianna.

"Not really," she replied. "But this is an opportunity we shouldn't waste."

"True," he said, closing his eyes and letting fatigue wash over him. "We may not get another five hours for a while." He gestured for Brianna to proceed first. "After you."

* * *

-6 hours later-

Jaq's first order of business as he entered the Mandalorian camp was to see if his gambler's luck was still as strong as rancor breath. Scanning the area, he located Kex and smiled; the Mandalorian was sitting on a supply crate. His right boot was missing, and the foot was bandaged. That seemed to be the most obvious injury, but the fact that he wasn't putting any weight on it suggested it might be more severe than it looked. As Jaq started towards Kex, he looked over his shoulder and saw that Kelborn was still behind him, pulling the infiltrators' cargo hauler behind him. He probably wanted to know how the battle went, too. Kex's helmeted face was unreadable to the approaching pair, but Jaq could easily detect the quartermaster's emotions. Curious though, the Mandalorian seemed almost pleased with himself. _Could he have actually.._ Jaq thought. _..Nah._ The Mandalorian didn't have the look of a victor, so what was he so cheery about?

Kex caught sight of them as they approached. "So, you made it back alive." Jaq smiled at him; Kelborn was wearing a grin as well, though it was hidden by his helmet. "Good. Is my equipment still intact?"

"Everything still works find, Kex," said Kelborn.

"Well that's a first," said Kex. "I didn't think you could go a whole mission without breaking something."

"Kex…, said Kelborn with a sigh.

"Speaking of breaking," said Jaq, still wearing his grin, "what happened to your foot?"

"I admit," said Kex, "that I may have underestimated your little friend-"

"She floored you," said Jaq, "didn't she?"

"It was a good battle," said Kex.

"He means quick," Kelborn told Jaq. Kex gave them a hard stare, and Jaq wondered if he was mouthing something under his helmet.

"So, I guess that means you owe me some credits," said Jaq.

"Actually," Kex replied, "we're even."

"Oh yeah?" asked Jaq. "How do you figure that?"

"I helped fix your boss' droid."

Jaq's expression hardened. _I hate that droid._ "You're not trying to pull one over on me are you?"

"I could go find your boss; have him verify the details." The smugness was practically rolling off the quartermaster. "In fact, he seemed a little dissatisfied with my lack of proper compensation. I'm sure I could persuade him to-"

"All right, all right. Shut up; I get it," said Jaq, running a hand over his face. _I _really _hate that droid._

"I'm glad we're in agreement. But you know, after spending just five minutes with the thing, I wanted to rip its head off." A half-smile appeared on Jaq's face. "Where's the off switch on it?"

"There is no off switch," Jaq replied. "I've looked."

"How do you put up with it?"

"Distance. And lots of closed doors."

"I'd hate to break this up," interjected Kelborn, "but Mandalore's expecting a report on our mission." He laid the heavy repeater on a nearby supply crate. "Kex, this is yours again. Keep it primed." He pulled the hauler around him. "As are these. See if you can find anything useful in this pile." Kex seemed to perk up at the prospect of having more equipment to work on and barter. They saluted each other, and Kelborn and Jaq started deeper into the camp. "You coming with me to see Mandalore?" he asked Jaq.

"Nah, I gotta find Silas," said Jaq. "He'll want to hear my version."

"Are you going to tell him _everything_?" asked Kelborn.

"There are a couple of things I might omit. Are you?"

"Mandalore's only interested in mission-specific details. I doubt he'll want to hear about a walk in the woods."

Jaq smiled, half-relieved. "Well then, Kelborn, it was a pleasure working with you." He extended his hand.

"Likewise," said Kelborn, copying the motion and giving his ally a firm handshake. "It was a good hunt."

As Kelborn walked away, Jaq remembered one other detail. "Don't forget to tell him about the _button_," he said, referring to the permacrete detonator they set off on their way back.

"How could I forget?" replied Kelborn. "I never thought those damn bomas would stop coming," he added quietly.

Jaq heard the Mandalorian mumbling something, smirked, then started heading deeper into the camp. _I think I just made a friend._

"It would certainly seem like it."

Jaq was startled slightly by the deep voice coming from behind him. Turning quickly, he came face-to-face with Silas Carver. Staring into the amber-stained eyes of the black-robed man and coming down from a small burst of adrenaline, Jaq felt old instincts trying to kick back in again. For about a second and a half, he actually had to resist the urge to kneel. _What the hell was that about? I haven't done anything like that since.._

"Jaq," said Silas with a faint smile. "You look like you just swallowed a live gizka."

Jaq took one more deep breath to calm himself. "How did you sneak up on me like that?"

"I have been practicing," answered Silas, "and you were not paying attention."

"Oh."

Silas' brows furrowed slightly at his pilot's clipped response. "So tell me: how did you spend the last few days?"

Jaq gave Silas a wide half-grin. "I've kept myself busy. Picked up a few new tricks, added to my body count. And I learned a few things about the guy who tried to shoot us down."

Silas' stance straightened, and his arms crossed. "I am all ears."

As Jaq relayed the various details of the assault on the infiltrators' camps, he found himself distracted by what he almost did. He hadn't knelt or shown anyone that much respect for a _long_ time; he thought he had purged that part of him from his system. That didn't mean he didn't think Silas deserve respect, but still…kneeling? Granted, their dynamic had changed somewhat ever since Silas had started training him, and Jaq _had_ pledged to follow him "to Hell and back." Even so, Jaq was still surprised at how easily he seemed to have fallen into the role of an apprentice; despite his seemingly dismissive attitude towards receiving advice or criticism from Silas, he really had taken everything the man told him to heart. _So, does he own me like he owns Visas? Will he want me to start calling him "Lord" or "Master" soon? Can I even _do_ that?_ The idea of being openly subservient didn't really sit well with him.

"Jaq!" Silas pulled him out of his thoughts. Jaq didn't realized he'd stopped talking. "You are distracted. Something wrong?"

_Nah; I don't need to bow to him; just gotta stay on his good side. Besides, if I do it once, he might actually enjoy it and want me to do it more often. I better end this conversation before I say something I'm going to regret. _"No, I'm fine. Just a little worn out from the trip. These Mandalorians think any patch of dirt that's even remotely flat is a good place to sleep."

Unfortunately, Jaq underestimated Silas' ability to read him. _That was a good try, Jaq_, thought Silas. He kept his face neutral to avoid being read himself. _Well improvised. But why bother? I thought we were beyond this._ Out of respect, he decided not to probe his student's mind for the truth._ I should call you on it, but I will not..this time. _"Well then; why don't you take the next few hours and get some rest. The Mandalorians have provided us with an impromptu barracks." He pointed over his shoulder. "That way."

Jaq tried to exaggerate his fatigue a little. "That's the best idea I've heard in 30 hours." He gave Silas a two-fingered salute as he walked past, and Silas gave him a slight nod in return.

Carver continued to watch the once-Scoundrel heading into the distance, and his eyes narrowed slightly._ This better not become a habit again, Jaq. You know what I can do when I want the truth._

* * *

Several minutes later, Silas was heading past the perimeter checkpoint when he ran into Bao-Dur and a blue-armored Mandalorian Silas recognized from his height to be Davrel. _He came _with_ the Mandalorian. Hm._

"General," said Bao-Dur. "Where are you headed?"

"I am heading back to the _Hawk_," Silas answered. "I see Kreia did not come with you."

"Nope, she stayed behind. Actually, she offered to give Mira a few lightsaber lessons."

Silas' eyebrow spiked at hearing the comment. "Kreia? Volunteered lessons? For Mira? Are you certain?"

Bao-Dur smiled. "I believe her exact words were, 'If another child is going to start swinging a lightsaber, she should at least learn the proper basics.'

That did sound like Kreia, though Silas still had trouble believing it. He looked over at Davrel. "And I assume you will be looking for Brianna." The Mandalorian nodded. "The last time I saw her, she was headed off to the Battle Circle with Kelborn. If you are lucky, you might be able to catch the end of the fight." He turned back to Bao-Dur. "The Mandalorian you are looking for goes by the name Zuka. You may have to do some searching to find him."

"Right," said Bao-Dur.

Silas could tell the Iridonian was a little uneasy about setting foot in the Mandalorian camp. As he walked past Bao-Dur, Carver stopped him for a second. "Thank you for doing this, my friend," he said quietly, then headed down the jungle trail.

* * *

Moving at his own pace, Silas was able to navigate the overgrown jungle path and reach the _Ebon Hawk_ in about half the time it took him to navigate the trail the first time. As soon as the ship entered his view, he began scrutinizing it. Even from a distance, it was easy to tell the ship in his possession was far from a luxury yacht, but at least it wasn't smoking like it was the last time he saw her. Carver squinted when he saw movement on top of the ship and smiled; T3 was making repairs to the dorsal turret. The little droid always liked to make himself useful, and like the ship Silas found him with, T3 was well-worn and reliable, if not a little temperamental and unpredictable. The utility droid noticed his approach and whistled a greeting; Silas returned it with a nod. As he neared the boarding ramp, it descended, revealing Mira looking back at him.

"What do you know; she was right," said Mira. Silas gave her a raised eyebrow. "Kreia," she continued. "She said you'd show up right about now."

"Did she?" Silas asked, walking up the ramp. "Well, where is Kreia?"

"How would I know?" Mira asked as Silas walked past her. He stopped and gave her a backwards glance.

"What do you mean?"

Mira caught the surprise in his voice. "You were expecting her to be here?"

Silas turned to face her. "Bao-Dur said she had remained behind to give you lightsaber instructions. When did she leave?"

"She left _with_ Bao-Dur; said you'd give me some pointers when you showed up."

Carver was silent for several seconds, then he closed his eyes and growled softly. Inwardly however, his ire flared. Kreia had slipped away again. "Visas has not yet returned, has she?" he asked in a cool, calm tone.

"Nope," replied Mira. "Sorry."

Carver growled again. With Visas still gone, there would be no way to find Kreia until she was ready to be found. He let out a long, calming sigh; there was nothing he could do about Kreia at this moment. "Very well," he said, finally opening his eyes. "Go retrieve your lightsaber, Mira. I shall give you your first lesson in one-on-one combat."

"All right," said Mira cautiously. She watched him turn and walk away, but kept him in her sight as long as possible as she had turned around herself. While she didn't know Silas as well as the others did, she had spent enough time reading people for her to pick up their more subtle cues. Mira hadn't missed Silas' burst of anger, and for a minute, she considered him a real danger. Even as she saw him calm down, she remained somewhat nervous; it was rare for someone to switch emotions so quickly and easily. A part of her wanted to wait a while, a good while, before crossing blades with Silas, but the look on his face said Silas was ready now. With a short hum, she hoped he could keep his cool long enough to actually teach her something.

Silas was thinking the same thing as he stood, cross-armed, in the middle of the clearing. His anger had diminished to mild frustration, but the causes of his frustration were still very prevalent in his mind. Visas was missing, Kreia was gone, Jaq was actively hiding things from him again, Brianna was still clinging to her past, and HK…HK was proving to be as big a threat to this mission as he was an asset. Silas pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slowly. Having to deal with so many personalities; he felt like he really was a General again, only this time the group he was commanding was not wholly committed to a singular goal.

"Credit for your thoughts?" came Mira's voice from behind him.

Silas looked back at her for a moment. "Progress seems to have slowed," he said, turning around and fixing his gaze straight at her brown eyes. "I guess I was expecting more definitive results."

Mira barely had a clue as to what Silas was talking about, but it was enough for her to respond. "Maybe you just need to give it more time. Most stuff doesn't happen overnight, y'know."

"Hm," said Silas with a half-grin. "Perhaps." His expression became more serious. "Right; time to get started. Let me see the lightsaber you have constructed."

Mira smiled and reached for her weapon. The first thing Silas noticed was the hilt's shape.

"A curved hilt," he said. "What inspired that?"

"Take a closer look," Mira replied, handing Silas the lightsaber.

The hilt was over 1.5 times larger and longer than necessary, even for a curved blade. The base of the hilt was flattened out and contoured, and judging by the difficulty carver had gripping it, it was designed for Mira's hand. As he moved up the hilt, Silas noticed something he couldn't figure out: a second aperture. It was slightly smaller than the one above it and inset several centimeters. "Does this weapon emit two blades?"

"Nope," said Mira with a grin. She took a step to the side. "Squeeze your index and middle fingers."

Silas gave her a raised eyebrow, held the weapon out, and flexed his fingers. For a moment, he thought he was aiming a…a burst of plasma shot out from the second aperture, taking Silas completely by surprise. "You integrated a blaster with your lightsaber?"

"Not quite. More like wound it around the lightsaber. Bao-Dur and I spent most of last night taking apart a Republic pistol and molding and forming the pieces around the original hilt."

"I can see why it took so long to do, but why?"

Mira scoffed. "I'm the best shot in this whole group. No way I'm going to let myself get rusty."

Silas smiled. "I should have seen that answer coming. And to activate the lightsaber?"

"There's a switch by your thumb."

Silas found the switch and flicked it; an orange blade sprang from the main aperture. "I do not recall having an orange crystal."

"We found a damaged lightsaber in one of the wrecks we searched. The focusing crystal was intact, so we decided to permanently borrow it."

"Hm. Well, normally I would prefer to give you the basics on a standard lightsaber," said Silas, handing Mira her weapon and stepping back several meters, "but unfortunately, we are pressed for time, so you will learn the basics as we go." Silas slung his right arm out to his side and activated the pressure switches between his fingers, activating the cradle's catapult and firing lightsaber into his hand; with a flick of his wrist, the crimson blade erupted from the hilt. Silas swung his blade back, holding it in a two-handed grip over his left shoulder. "Now Mira, the combat form I am going to teach you is Makashi, a style best suited for dueling against others using lightsabers. Now, mirror my stance." He stepped forward with his right foot and held his right arm almost parallel with the leg with the blade in line with his arm. His left arm was bent slightly and held just out of view. "You will understand why I hold my left arm like this in later lessons."

Without a reply, Mira slid into the stance.

"Good," said Silas. "Now, the style of Makashi I am going to teach you will play to your strengths. Instead of powering through an opponent's defenses, you are going to learn to work around them." He paused. "Hold up your saber." Mira brought her blade parallel to the ground, and Silas took several steps forward, stopping centimeters from the tip of Mira's saber. "Try and keep your opponents this far from you until you are ready to attack. Your blade is an extension of your arm; use your opponent's momentum to swat away and redirect their attacks." Silas took several steps backward. "At this distance, a thrust will to be your preferred attack. When you see your opening, step in and strike."

"So you're saying I should poke the guy to death?" asked Mira

Silas smiled and held his blade horizontal. "The thrust is only an opening attack of a series of fluid movements, but it can prove essential. The right opening move can put your opponent on the defensive for the duration of the fight." He held up his blade. "Now come at me with the intent to kill."

* * *

Silas parried another one of Mira's attacks, sending her stumbling to his left. As he returned to a ready position again, his comlink went off.

"_Silas, come in._" It was Jaq.

"Go ahead, Jaq," Silas replied.

"_Kelborn just told me Mandalore wants to see us. You might to get back here._"

"Right. I will be there soon." Before he severed the link, he thought of something. "You have not seen or heard from Kreia, have you?"

"_Nope_." He almost sounded relieved.

"Fine. I'm on my way." Silas pocketed the comlink.

"I guess that means we're done for today?" asked Mira.

"I am," Silas answered, "but you are not. Keep practicing your footwork and saber control. You need to tighten your stance a little ." As he turned to leave, he paused for a moment. "If Visas or Kreia show up, contact me."

"Right," she acknowledged.

Before he started down the jungle path, Silas glanced over his shoulder one more time and saw Mira had already resumed her training. A half-smile appeared; Silas had to admit Mira was a quick learner. Three hours into their first session, Mira was already beginning to exhibit a decent amount of control over her weapon; at one point, she rolled around his blade and came within centimeters of elbowing him in the face. Even though he had seen the move coming, he was impressed that she could make such an opening for herself. And there were dozens of times when she could have brought him down with that blaster she had attached to her lightsaber.

_Mira's lightsaber,_ he mused. It was an interesting weapon, to be sure and certainly not what he expected her to build. And yet, as impressed as he was with the weapon, he couldn't help but feel there was something inherently wrong about it. A blaster and a lightsaber…together; the weapons just seemed too different to blend.

_"Just like the doctrines of the Sith and the Jedi," _a familiar aged voice echoed in his head.

_Kreia!_

_"And yet, is that not what you are trying to do?"_ Kreia continued,_ "Blend together the power of the Sith and the loyalty of the Jedi? Is such a thing even possible?"_

_For a time, I thought it was possible. But today, I felt the loyalty starting to slip._

_"His loyalty to you is not the problem; it is his loyalty to himself that he questions."_

_What do you mean?_

_"Your echo affected him as it affected the beasts. The Sith assassin, the killer, awakened last night, and for a time, he lost himself._

_Brianna and Mira said they felt it as well._

_"Yes; a common occurrence for those linked through the Force."_

Silas was silent for a moment. He knew of his ability to easily create Force bonds with others. It had been a poorly-kept secret in the Dantooine academy. As a padawan, he either had friends or rivals; there weren't many students who were merely felt indifference towards him. _But why was he affected so extremely?_

_"You drilled into his mind, remember? Such an act is bound to leave its scars, and as I said before, he is more susceptible to influence than he believes, especially from someone he respects.._

_Hmm. I wonder: is this something I could do at will?_

_"Perhaps. But I would use caution. Jaq may be loyal, but I doubt he would appreciate being used as a puppet."_

Silas felt Kreia's consciousness slipping away._ Wait Kreia, where are you? You did not return with the others. _

_"I should think I am old enough to go where I please without permission or escort."_

_Fine, but where are you?_

_"I am where I need to be."_

_That is not what I asked you._

_"It is what you need to know. I will return when my task is complete."_

With that, Kreia was gone. Silas growled then exhaled; Kreia's habit of vanishing without explanation was getting old and problematic. He smiled; he could practically hear Jaq saying, "Just like _her_." _Wait..Jaq._ His smile darkened slightly.

* * *

Silas found Jaq waiting for him outside the Mandalorian command center. "Do you know what this is about?" he asked Jaq.

"Possibly booking our flight," said Jaq.

"Hm." Silas walked past Jaq, who followed him into the building. Inside, they found Mandalore leaning over a holomap table alongside a red-armored Mandalorian. They were tracing a path through a section of the Dxun jungle. When Silas decided they had reached a stopping point, he spoke up. "Mandalore."

The silver-armored Mandalorian looked back at them, then turned to the Mandalorian beside him. "Take five, Kelborn." The red Mandalorian saluted his leader and began walking towards the exit, giving Jaq a slight nod as he past. "You and your group have made quite a reputation around here. Your Echani warrior cleared the Battle Circle, the Iridonian helped get our long-range scanner online, your…droid made itself useful, and your exploits were equally impressive."

"I assume that means we have proven our worth," said Silas, crossing his arms.

"Heh," said Mandalore. "I guess you'll be able to handle yourselves all right. So here's how it's going to work: I'm leaving for Iziz on two days, 0900 Dxun time. If you're here, I'll take you to Onderon. If you're not here, I'm leaving without you."

"Is this how you always uphold your end of a bargain?" asked Jaq.

"Is this how you always say thank you?" replied Mandalore. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty busy. If you can't show up when you're supposed to, then there's no reason for me to wait." Jaq growled softly.

"We will be here Mandalore," replied Silas, "but we were hoping to leave a little sooner."

"Sorry, but my shuttle, my time line," said Mandalore, " and it's leaving in two days. Now, if you'll excuse me gentlemen, I have another recon op to put together." With that, he turned and headed into the next room.

Jaq balled his fists slightly and looked over at Silas; the man's face was totally unreadable, as always. He turned to leave and was taking his second step when a strong hand clamped softly down on his shoulder. He froze, staring straight ahead.

"Find Kreia..," came Silas' calm voice from behind him. "Quietly." The hand disappeared, and Jaq resumed walking, a small grin slid over his face; he was going to enjoy this mission.

* * *

-1 day later-

Silas hated the rain; especially when he was caught outside in it. And being in the middle of the jungle, there was no point in breaking into a full run; he was going to get soaked no matter how fast he went. Sure, he could have used the Force to bolster his speed, but he just didn't care enough, so he settled for an exaggerated stride. _I hope whatever Bao-Dur has to tell me is worth this._ Twenty minutes earlier, the Iridonian had contacted him, asking to see him at the _Ebon Hawk_. Silas would have waited longer to go back to the ship, but he detected something odd in the tech's voice, so Silas decided it was better to not put this off.

Forty rain-soaked minutes later, Silas finally trudged up the _Ebon Hawk_'s loading ramp. The first thing he did was throw back his hood and shuck the outer layer of his black robe. Bao-Dur wasn't in the immediate vicinity, so he went into the starboard crew quarters to hang up the drenched robe. Once that was done, he headed into the garage. "Bao-Dur?"

"I'm in here, General," came the Iridonian's voice from the engine room. Curious, there was something off about it.

Walking into the engine room, Silas found Bao-Dur sitting on the floor, slowly spinning and scrutinizing the hydrospanner in his hand. "What happened, Bao-Dur?" he asked.

"I don't know," Bao-Dur replied, still staring at the tool. "It was…weird."

"Weird? How?"

"The hydrospanner…" Bao-Dur looked up at Silas. "It…_rolled_."

Carver felt a tightening in his chest at the Iridonian's answer; he didn't like where this was going. "It is round, Bao-Dur. It will do that."

"That's not what I meant."

_I know._ "All right," said Silas, leaning against the door frame, trying to appear as calm as possible. "Start from the beginning."

Bao-Dur looked back at the spanner. "I had just finished working on the engines, and I was putting away my tools when my shoulder hit the toolbox. It fell and the hydrospanner rolled under the fuel line. I got down on the floor to get it, but it was just out of reach. I remember feeling frustrated, trying to get a few centimeters closer when suddenly it just…rolled…into my hand."

Inwardly, Silas was letting loose a long stream of curses. Fate and the Force seemed to be conspiring against him as of late. "Which hand?" he asked calmly.

"Does it matter?" Bao-Dur asked, looking up at him.

"Not really, but which one?"

"My real one."

"Hm."

"What was that? I mean was it the Force or something else or…?

Silas really didn't want to answer that question, not now. "It is _possible_. The Force binds all things, works though all things. It is by no stretch of the imagination that someone who is not trained in the Force could have a brief encounter with it."

"So you think it was just a one-time thing? I mean you haven't picked up any Force readings from me, have you?"

"It had not occurred to be to check, honestly." A flat lie. "But, if you like, I could test you now."

"Alright," said Bao-Dur with a nod.

"Bring your hydrospanner and come with me." Silas lead the Iridonian to the garage. "This is the place where you feel the most relaxed, right."

"Usually."

"Good. Now, sit down and get comfortable." Carver watched Bao-Dur lie back and prop himself against the wall. He rubbed the right side of his forehead absentmindedly and knelt down beside the Iridonian; he really wished he didn't have to do this now. "Alright; now close your eyes and concentrate on the moment you saw the hydrospanner move," he said, placing his hand against the side of Bao-Dur's head, his palm over his temple and his fingers between his head spikes. "Recall as much of it as you can; your feelings, your emotions, the various smells of the engine room, the sounds of the circulating fluids and gases; everything."

"I have it."

"Now concentrate harder." Carver could feel the touch of the Force within Bao-Dur; whether or not Bao-Dur could detect it himself Silas couldn't tell. "Picture the scene in your mind; make it as clear as possible." He was going to hate himself for doing this, but there was no going back now. "Do you see it? Can you feel it?"

"Yes," Bao-Dur said, almost breathlessly.

"Good. Enjoy it." Carver closed his eyes and slowly counted down from five in his head. As soon as he hit zero, Malvolis sent a powerful Force pulse unto the Iridonian's mind. Bao-Dur's body went rigid, his eyes snapped open for a few seconds, closed again, then his body went slack, sliding forward under its own weight. Carver caught the limp body and eased it to the floor. He immediately checked for vital signs; Bao-Dur was still alive; alive but unconscious. He propped the body back up against the wall and into what he hoped looked like a comfortable position. "I am sorry, old friend," he said placing the hydrospanner back in the tech's real hand. "But you are just not ready yet." He placed his hand on the Iridonian's forehead. "When you wake up, you will remember nothing of this. It will be like a dream, and you will not pursue it any further."

Carver got up and headed towards the starboard crew quarters; he had to leave immediately. Not because Bao-Dur might wake up at any moment, but because his stomach was threatening to turn on him if he remained any longer. He grabbed his still-dripping outer robe, slid it on, and without another look back, headed out into the rain. _So much for loyalty.._

* * *

-6 hours later-

_What's this?_ thought Jaq, peering around a durasteel wall. It was only a hunch that had lead him to this part of the Mandalorian camp, but as usual, his gut feeling was right. In the distance he could make out a group of Mandalorians, including the silver-armored Mandalore, running preflight on the G-Wing shuttle in the small hangar. But Mandalore wasn't concerned with the shuttle at the moment; he was having a chat…with Kreia. _Can't hear what they're saying from here, better get in closer._ He activated the Eriadu Stealth Unit around his waist, shrouding himself in cloaking field, and carefully moved in for a closer look.

"…at Malachor V. And I remember how many Jedi died to stop us there."

_Sounds like the old bat said something Mandalore didn't like hearing,_ thought Jaq.

"And no matter how many dead orbit that planet, the Mandalorians still live," continued Mandalore. "Clan Ordo still lives." He pointed to one of the Mandalorians behind him. "See Kex there; he was serving as muscle for the Hutts on Nar Shaddaa. Kelborn was a scout for Duros on frontier worlds. I brought them here; gave then a purpose. The galaxy will be ours again, I promise you. _That_ is the future."

_Not likely bucket head._

"Ah, the future," said Kreia. "It is constantly in motion, Mandalore. And even for one such as myself, it is difficult to see. Perhaps there will be no new age, no new Mandalorian crusade. Perhaps your people fought their last battle at Malachor V and have been dying ever since, a quiet death that will last centuries. And perhaps all that remains will be what I see before me: a man, wounded by a Jedi, encased in a Mandalorian shell, haunted by the thought of being the last of the Mandalorians."

"You've got some guts talking to me like that," said Mandalore. "You think your age or your Jedi whelp can keep you safe from me?"

"No, Mandalore, you are wrong. I hope that it is you who keeps him safe. You are loyal, and you have served many masters, even after they have abandoned you. Do you wonder where he wanders now, Mandalore? Why he gave you your orders, then abandoned you at the edge of the galaxy?"

_What the hell is she talking about?_ thought Jaq.

"How do you know that?" asked Mandalore.

"I know many things," answered Kreia, "and I can answer the question that burns within your shell, Mandalore. But there is a price: you must keep the one I travel with safe. He is important to me, more important than anything. Show the same loyalty you have shown in the past. If there is a Mandalorian crusade, let it be for something that will carry your people's memory into the future, so when there are no more Mandalorians, at least their honor will remain. Silas has walked your same path, and I ask that when the end comes, that you remember that kinship, even if it seems there is nothing else left."

_Damn_, thought Jaq. _I almost forgot how good she was._ He saw Kreia turn around and take a step forward, but surprisingly, she stopped and turned back. Jaq used the opportunity to back away several meters. A couple of seconds later, she turned again and started heading in his direction. Jaq went motionless, not wanting to betray his location as Kreia walked past. When she was within a couple of meters of him, he thought he saw her turn her head slightly in his direction. Had she seen him? If so, she didn't acknowledge him further. Not that he expected her to; she rarely ever did. He looked back to see Mandalore headed towards him as well. Again he froze.

Fortunately, he managed to go unnoticed by the Mandalorian as he walked past. When Mandalore headed around the corner, Jaq got up and followed, still cloaked. He rounded the corner, and was beginning to feel safe…a burst of electricity surged up his left leg. Jaq shouted in pain and buckled as his leg gave out. The charge reached his stealth unit and shorted it out, dropping the cloaking field and revealing him to anyone who might be looking. Lying on his back, Jaq felt his leg go numb and cursed. He managed to roll over and get his good leg under him, and he was about to pull himself to his feet when he looked up. There was a Mandalorian Disintegrator aimed point-blank at his head.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three to tell me what the Hell you were doing spying on me," said a half-angry Mandalore. "1…"

Some of Jaq's leg muscles were still twitching from the electrical discharge. "I wasn't spying on you," he said through gritted teeth.

"That's not what I asked. 2…"

"Okay, okay! I was spying on the old woman, alright?"

Mandalore didn't lower his weapon. "Why?"

"Didn't matter."

"Huh. I see." Mandalore turned to leave. "You pull a stunt like that again, I won't give you another three seconds. Got it?"

Jaq growled. "Yeah."

"Good," said the Mandalorian. He started walking away. "By the way, your leg'll be dead for about half and hour. I suggest you sit tight until the numbness wears off."

After a few seconds, Jaq pulled himself up against the nearby wall and took out his comlink. "Silas, you copy?"

"_Go ahead Jaq._"

"I found her; she was talking to the Mandalore."

"_Where is she now?_"

"Don't know. I think she knew I was watching 'em. Probably told Mandalore. He hit me with something, and my leg went numb. I think he's headed in your direction."

"_Fine. What were they talking about?_"

* * *

Silas Carver was sitting on one of the cots staring at the opposite side of the room, hands clasped and elbows on his knees, when the shadow of Mandalore appeared on the floor.

"You've got a lot of nerve letting your little kath hound sniff around my base like that," said the Mandalorian. "He's lucky he's not dead."

Carver continued staring at the wall in front of him. "What were you doing with her?" he asked in a calm, quiet tone.

"That's not your business. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you back into the jungle."

"Because you have to honor our bargain."

"I don't have to do a damn thing."

Malvolis slowly turned his head to look at the armored man. "You _will_ honor our deal, Mandalore, or I will bring Clan Ordo that much closer to extinction."

"You try anything," said Mandalore, his fingers twitching near the butt of his assault rifle hanging at his side, "and I'll kill you without a second thought."

A dark grin spreading over his face, Malvolis chucked softly. "Empty threats from a broken man."

Mandalore took a step forward. "What did you say?"

There was a faint explosion in the distance. Mandalore whipped around in the direction the sound had some from. Several seconds later, a gold-armored Mandalorian came running up.

"Mandalore! We have intruders," said the warrior. "Stealth targets have breached the perimeter! We've begun our counterattack."

Before Mandalore could respond, he heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber. Turning he saw Carver standing and heading towards him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Our common enemy is assaulting your base," replied Carver, walking past the silver Mandalorian. "We must deal with the invaders before we can continue this."

Watching the man who had just insulted him now walking away into a battle to defend his camp, Mandalore was speechless, until the other Mandalorian spoke up.

"Sir?"

Mandalore shook his head to clear it. "Right. Set up ambush sites near the comms center and the hangar, and what ever you do, don't let them near the armory!"

"Yes, sir!" said the Mandalorian with a salute. He turned and ran off.

Mandalore unclipped his assault rifle and started in the direction Carver had been heading in.

* * *

Silas was observing the battle near the main gate. The open field was full of combatants: Mandalorians, staff-wielding assassins, and scattered across the area, Carver easily spotted two lightsabers: one green, one orange. Kreia was battling against a quartet of assassins, and despite her age, she was faring pretty well. Mira was back-to-back-to with a red-armored Mandalorian. For a moment, they appeared to be surrounded, but the Mandalorian dropped to the ground, and Mira sent out a radial Force blast that send the group of assassins flying backwards. Two blue Mandalorians came charging in, beating down half the rising invaders while Mira and the red Mandalorian took care of the rest.

_Brianna and HK must be engaged deeper in the camp_, Carver thought. _I doubt they would willingly miss this fight._ A shimmering disturbance to his right caught attention. Glancing over, he spotted the silhouette of a stealthed assassin hugging the wall, trying to slip past him. _Amateur._ Carver took several steps forward, letting the Sith get behind him, but keeping him in view. As expected, the assassin came up directly behind him. He lifted his staff and prepared to attack. As the rod swung back, Carver activated his lightsaber, threw his arm over his shoulder and intercepted the blow. Instead of breaking the lock, the Sith pushed forward, trying to twist the lightsaber into Carver's back. "So unwise," said Malvolis, activating his second blade. He thrust the silver lightsaber over his shoulder and buried it into the assassin's faceplate. Malvolis deactivated both blades, and the Sith dropped to the ground. Instead of keeping the blades out, he reset the catapults for later.

"What kind of game are you playing, Carver?" came Mandalore's voice from behind him.

Carver turned to give him a backwards glance. "I do not have time for games, Mandalore."

"I'm usually good at reading people," said Mandalore, coming up to stand beside him. "But you…" He raised his rifle and fired a couple of shots at a distracted Sith, dropping him. That got the attention of at least ten others, who starting charging them.

"I pride myself on being a mystery," said Carver, stepping forward. He held up his hand, and lightning sprang from his fingers. The arcs connected with three of the assassins, who stopped dead in their tracks. Maintaining his Force lightning, Malvolis lifted the three men in the air and slammed them into the wall. The rest he sent flying back with two sweeps of his hands and an intense Force blast.

Mandalore took the opportunity to charge forward into the group of recovering Sith, using the rifle as a cudgel. He slammed the butt of the gun into the face of one assassin, then rammed the barrel into another one's neck.

Carver activated his red blade and charged himself. The first Sith he met tried to bring his rod down on his neck, but Carver knocked the staff away. Without pause, the Sith swung the other end around to hit him in the head, but Carver intercepted that attack as well. Twice more the Sith tried to get through Carver's defenses; their duel attracting the attention of another assassin. Carver swung his blade up and caught the first assassin's staff again, rotated his blade forward, and pulled it and his opponent's staff down. The other end came up, but before the Sith could launch an attack, Carver grabbed the rod, broke contact with his blade, and cleaved the assassin's head off.

In order to stop the second Sith's attack, Carver had to activate his second saber. With his first swing, Carver batted away the swinging rod; with his second, he powered forward, ignoring the swift blow to his side, and buried his red blade into the Sith's neck.

Then he felt it: a heavy blow against his collarbone. Spinning on his heel, he came face-to-face with a third Sith. His rage flared, and his left hand shot out. With a blast of the Force, Malvolis sent the assassin flying against the wall. As the Sith recovered, Malvolis hurled both his sabers; they buried themselves into the wall just centimeters from the sides of the assassin. Malvolis was in the Sith's face within a second, his left forearm wedged against the Sith's chest. "Let's see who you are." With his right hand, he ripped off the assassin's mask and stared into the man's brown eyes; they were full of terror. Malvolis smiled and latched onto the man's face with his right hand; the assassin's eyes visible through the spaces between his fingers. Concentrating, Malvolis unleashed his attack. Tendrils of red energy snaked from his arm, over his hand, down his fingers, and jumped onto the Sith's face. The man screamed in pain, though much of it was muffled by Malvolis' palm over his mouth. The first thing Malvolis felt was relief; the pain in his shoulder vanished followed soon by the ache in his side. The screams of the man in his grip changed in pitch several times as he entered new levels of suffering, and Malvolis was reveling every second of it. Even when his injuries were fully healed, he continued his assault; he didn't know how long he was taking nor did he care. The entire battlefield had shrunk down to just him and the dying man in front of him; nothing else mattered. The Sith's screams soon became a collection of gurgling noises then a breathless exhale. After one final slam against the wall, Malvolis let the Sith go and watched the body crumple to the ground. He turned around and saw Mandalore watching him in the middle of a pile of dead assassins.

"Done yet?" asked the Mandalorian. "There's still a few more to go."

Malvolis nodded, turned, and pulled out his sabers from the wall. Then he and Mandalore ran to the next area of combat.

* * *

It took nearly an hour for the Mandalorians to finally repulse the attack and send the scattered survivors retreating into the jungle. The final phase of the battle took place when Silas, his allies, and the Mandalorians encircled the main force of Sith near the Battle Circle. The noose tightened around the infiltrators with every assassin felled. There were a few who managed to slip past, but Mandalore was already dispatching teams to hunt them down. Silas and his crew were assisting in gathering the dead bodies onto cargo loaders; they would be taken far from the camp and left for the predators. All over the camp, everyone was recounting their own experience in battle and comparing scores. The average count for the Mandalorians was around eight each, except for Mandalore, who took down over a dozen. It was HK, though, who came out on top with a total of sixteen kills and seven assists. "Droid efficiency" he boasted, though once again, his plasma tank was empty.

Carver avoided the celebratory banter, preferring not to discuss his experience of battle. To anyone who asked him about his body count, he replied, "I was too busy fighting to keep track." It took him a few minutes to locate Jaq; with his leg numb, his student had been unable to engage the enemy for most of the first half of the battle, but from what he had heard from the Mandalorians, when he finally entered the fray, he more than made up for the time he missed. Carver couldn't help but smile; perhaps his efforts were paying off after all.

"Hey, Carver!" came a Mandalorian voice.

Silas turned around and spotted Mandalore heading towards him. He was flanked by Brianna, Mira, HK, and several other Mandalorians. "Mandalore," said Silas, returning the greeting.

"You and your crew fought well today."

"As did you and yours." Then he noticed it. "Where is Kreia?"

"She said she was going back to the _Hawk_ to wait for Visas to return," said Brianna. "And she said you could trust her to be there when you return from Onderon."

"Yeah, right," retorted Jaq.

"While we're on the subject of Onderon," said Mandalore. "I realize I said I wouldn't be leaving until tomorrow, but since they decided to attack us first, there's no need for the recon missions. So if you're ready to leave now, we can."

"Are you sure you do not need to be here until things die down a little more?"

"What's left to die down? My men know what to do."

"Well then, if you are sure." Silas turned to Jaq. "Why don't you, HK, and Mira join one of the Mandalorian hunting parties; find out where these Sith came from."

"You want me to go on _another_ nature walk?" asked Mira. "I could barely stand the first one."

"Come on; this one'll be fun," said Jaq, slinging his arm around. "You'll have me with you."

"I say again," said Mira, pushing Jaq's arm off with her finger, "Why am I going bushwhacking _again_?"

Silas grinned. "Would you prefer staying on the _Hawk _to watch Kreia and make sure she does not slip away again?"

"On second thought," said Mira, "I think I will take that walk."

"Good. And when you are not busy, you two can practice your saber work. And HK," said Silas, turning to the rust-colored droid, "I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"Resignation: Very well, Master; I understand. I shall obey the Mandalorian meatbags. Bemused addendum: To the best of my abilities."

"You _are_ going to have fun," Silas told Jaq. "Brianna, care to join us down to the planet?"

The white-haired woman smiled and nodded.

"Well then," said Mandalore. "If you two are ready; we'll head out."

Several minutes later, the roar of the G-Wing shuttle's engines echoed throughout the Mandalorian camp, and the curved, black ship shot into the atmosphere.

* * *

The Iziz Spaceport was abnormally quiet for a major off-world transportation hub; as such, there were plenty of places to land.

"You better do most of the talking," said Mandalore, powering down the G-Wing's systems. "The Onderonians still get a little nervous when they see Mandalorians."

"I can't imagine why," said Brianna with a small smirk.

Mandalore lowered the loading ramp, and the trio exited the craft. As they left the hangar, the port authority holding a datapad approached them. "Can I have your names and ship ID?" he asked.

"Is that really necessary?" asked Silas.

"I'm afraid so," said the Onderonian. "Ever since General Vaklu set up that blockade in orbit, the queen has ordered that all ships that have been allowed to land must be recorded, searched, and their crew's names documented. Then there's a fee to rent a hangar in the spaceport."

"Right, because space is at a premium right now, is it not?" he asked, gesturing around at the half-empty spaceport.

"I'm sorry for the inconveniences, sir, but those are the regulations."

"How much is the fee to rent the hangar?"

"100 credits."

"How about I offer you 400 credits," said Silas, crossing his arms, "and you forget about our names and registration."

The Onderonian perked up and smiled. "Well then, welcome to Onderon, Mr. Antilles."

Silas waited for the port authority to finish forging their names and vehicle registration. He was then handed a small card.

"This is your Starport Visa. Keep a tight hold on it; it's the only way you can get back into the spaceport."

Taking the visa, Silas gave the man a smile, then he realized he was waiting for his bribe. "I already paid you," said Carver with a wave of his hand.

"You already paid me," repeated the port authority. "Enjoy your visit to Iziz, Mr. Antilles."

The trio left the man standing there in a cloudy daze. They crossed the starport checkpoint without any trouble and headed into the city. Little did they know that a civil war was about to erupt, and the trio was going to be caught in the middle of the two opposing factions.

to be continued..

Author's End Note: I am going to skip the events in the Merchant Quarter because I want to get the story going. I'll flashback to the important parts, but I want to move on.

One more thing: I know I could have written much on the actual Sith assault, but describing all the various ways Silas cut through the waves of weak enemies was getting kind of repetitive and boring. I promise to write more when the enemies get more cunning.


	11. SNAFU

Disclaimer: I still don't own Star Wars or KOTOR. But a guy can dream...

Author's Note: Look who's back and with a new chapter. And guess what, we're still on Dxun. I don't think I'll ever get Carver off this blasted rock. I have to admit, this isn't exactly my best work, mostly because things aren't happening as fast as I'd like, but they will within the next few chapters. Then after that, things'll _really_ pick up...

Chapter 11: SNAFU

-16 days later-

The roar of the G-Wing shuttle's engines filled the jungle as it made its final approach to the hangar. The sight of the shuttle overhead was a welcomed relief for the entire camp; everyone had been on edge since the attack a couple of weeks ago, especially since most of the surviving assassins had successfully slipped away into the jungle. But now that the leaders of both groups were returning, there was a chance things could finally settle down.

Jaq watched the shuttle slide backwards through the hangar doors and touch down, allowing a half-grin to appear on his face as he started heading towards the building. He had to admit he was more than a little curious as to what transpired on Onderon; Silas still hadn't made him privy to his entire plan, but he knew enough to understand the Jedi Master rumored to be on the planet was an important part of it. He was also eager to tell Silas something he recently discovered; a hidden, and damned hilarious, truth about their latest mechanical addition to the crew. He was so preoccupied with the thoughts of how the others reacted to his discovery that he disregarded the modest chill running down his spine. After all, what's a slight breeze compared to the realization that the most powerful Exchange crime lord on Nar Shaddaa was actually a…

"DAMN KAVAR and DAMN _TOBIN!!_"

_Oh shit._ Jaq came to a dead halt when he heard the bone-chilling roar of an angry Silas Carver. His body, his very being, filled with dread as he remembered what a pissed-off Silas Carver was like, what Darth Malvolis was capable of while in a foul mood. Jaq was just about to turn around and head in the other direction when he caught sight of the black-robed man; even at this distance, Jaq could tell the man had enough fury in his eyes to burn anyone who crossed him to ashes.

"To Hell with his deal," Carver continued, throwing up his right hand. "I should have just killed them all and been _done_ with it!" He swatted the air in front of him, sending a nearby supply crate flying into the wall with a blast of the Force. Then he started walking. "Who does he think he's dealing with? How _stupid_ does he think I am?" Mandalore and Brianna then emerged into view. They seemed perfectly satisfied with the amount of lead the man ahead of them had, and they were in no hurry to keep pace.

Jaq recognized Carver's walk: the long heavy stride and the quick pace. He wasn't just angry; he only reached that speed when he was beyond furious, and Carver was headed right towards him. Jaq swallowed nervously as his leader quickly closed the distance between them and waited until Carver was directly in front of him to say anything.

"Hey, Sy," said Jaq, trying to hide his apprehension as best he could, "How did th…?"

Carver simply growled as he stormed past.

But for some reason, Jaq was unsatisfied with the dismissive reply and, in an attempt to glean more information, started after him. It took only a few exaggerated strides to catch up, and once Carver was within arm's length, Jaq reached out for his shoulder. "Hey Si…" About half a second before his hand could grab the black robe, the alarms in his head started blaring. But it was too late. The instant Jaq's fingers touched Carver, his windpipe collapsed, and Jaq was hoisted over half a meter off the ground. While clawing for the invisible hand around his throat, his gaze was drawn to Silas' upturned right hand, which was gripping the air. He started to panic; those one and a half words he spoke had drained some of the air in his lungs, and he was quickly using up the rest. But with his throat sealed, the possibility of suffocating was slowly becoming a reality. After several long gagging seconds, Jaq saw Carver glance back at him. It was possible that Carver had recognized him because his fingers sprang flat, sending the once-Scoundrel sailing backwards through the air with a burst of Force energy.

Jaq landed awkwardly on his back and tumbled a couple of meters until Bao-Dur's ankle finally stopped his roll. He laid there, face-up, for a few seconds trying to catch his breath.

"Are you all right?" asked Bao-Dur, looking down at the prone man.

"Yeah; I'll live," Jaq replied between rounds of coughing. He propped himself up, watching Carver march into the distance, the tail of his black robe undulating with every step. "We're in for one hell of a week."

"I wonder what he found out about you _this_ time," Bao-Dur said with a wry grin.

Jaq tried to smirk at the Iridonian, but one last cough broke his expression. He looked to his right and found Brianna and the Mandalore heading towards them.

"Brianna," said the Iridonian to the Echani, "what happened down on Onderon?"

"We've become embroiled in their immanent civil war," she answered, sounding relatively disappointed.

Bao-Dur's eyes widened. "_What?_ Openly? He isn't worried about actually setting it off?"

Mandalore waved away the question. "The only thing that's happened so far is a few street skirmishes between civilians. Soldiers haven't gotten involved…yet. Well, nothing beyond standard crowd control."

"Once we were recognized as heavily-armed off-worlders," continued Brianna, "we received offers from both factions to support their cause."

"Why didn't you just stay out of it?" asked Bao-Dur.

"That would have been preferable," she replied, "but the attacks forced our hand."

"Attacks?" repeated Bao-Dur. "Who would attack you?"

"Someone who was probably too stupid to realize who you were," said Jaq, still lying on the ground, though in a much more comfortable position with his hands tucked under his head.

Brianna looked down at him, noting his over-relaxed posture, and shook her head dismissively at him. "The Royalist supporters attacked us first," she said, looking back at Bao-Dur, "after they witnessed a meeting between us and a group of Vaklu's advocates. They assumed we had sided with the General."

"But you hadn't, right?" asked Jaq, cautiously.

Brianna glanced down at him. "Up until that point,…no."

"Wait," said Jaq, finally deciding to pull himself to his feet. He quickly swiped his hand over his gray robe to remove any dirt clinging to the fabric. "You're not saying we are now, are you?"

"Siding with Vaklu has advantages for us," said Mandalore. "For one, it ends the threat of attacks on our camp."

"And the fact that he was the one ordering those attacks means nothing?" Jaq shot back.

Mandalore shrugged. "Think of it as a cease fire then, if you have to, but the end result is the same."

Jaq looked back at Brianna, confusion plastered all over his face. "And Silas was fine with this?"

"He was…hesitant…to agree," she admitted, "but given the circumstances, it was the right choice."

"I don't believe this," said Jaq, closing his eyes and pressing his thumb and index finger against his eyebrows for a moment. "The man tried to shoot us down, Brianna. He's tried to kill us…twice. And we're working with him now?"

The Echani gave him a look that was just shy of condescending. "The Jedi we were looking for is the queen's bodyguard," she stated.

Jaq did a take. "What?" Brianna nodded once, and he let out a soft chuckle. "So, the queen's allied with the Jedi, and Vaklu's allied with the Sith." After a short pause, he sighed. "This is going to get ugly."

"Wait," said Bao-Dur. "If Silas agreed to help Valku, why is he so upset?"

Brianna winced slightly. "Things became…complicated during our last hours on the planet."

"Define 'complicated'," said Jaq.

"When we finally met with the Jedi, Colonel Tobin arrived with some armed soldiers and interrupted us," said Brianna. "There was a short battle, but the Jedi managed to slip away in the chaos."

"I bet Silas wasn't too happy with Tobin," said Jaq.

"You could say that," replied Brianna, trying to hide the small grin that wanted to appear as she recalled the meeting.

_-Darth Malvolis held the Colonel off the ground against the wall of the cantina, his hand wrapped around the Onderonian's neck in a vise grip. "I will give you five seconds to tell me why you should still be breathing in six."-_

Jaq cocked his head slightly and furrowed his brow. "Then why did Silas agree to work with him?"

"It wasn't easy," said Brianna. There was an ounce of pity in her voice. "Tobin wasn't the most skilled diplomat."

"Hostile negotiations, huh?" asked Jaq with a half-grin.

Mandalore laughed. "I though Carver was going to rip his throat out. But you've got to give the Colonel some credit; not many people can still negotiate while they're dangling in the air with their windpipe being crushed."

_-Tobin's words were barely audible. "I'm sorry for any inconvenience we may have cauuu-"_

"_Inconvenience?" Malvolis repeated slowly, tightening his grip. "You put the lives of my men in jeopardy."_

_Tobin continued his attempts to pry the fingers from around his neck. "I was just following my orders!"_

_Malvolis bared his teeth. "You should have anticipated the consequences."-_

"But Silas didn't kill him?" asked Jaq.

"It took some convincing, but we managed to get through to him," said Brianna.

_-Malvolis released his grip, and Tobin dropped to the floor. "Start talking," he said, his sulfur gaze fixed on the Colonel. "Quickly."-_

"All right," said Jaq. "So what's this deal we have with them?"

"We help Vaklu in his war against the queen," answered Mandalore, "and Vaklu delivers the Jedi to us."

Jaq slowly shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this. So what else happened?" Before anyone could continue, his comlink went off.

"_Jaq, come in; it's Mira._"

Jaq reached into his pocket and fished out the comlink. "Nice timing, Mira. Silas just got back."

"_I thought I saw their ship. Guess who else is back._"

Jaq raised an eyebrow. "Visas?"

"_Yep._"

_Finally, some good news_, thought Jaq. "Where is she now?"

"_In her bunk. She barely made it across the clearing before she collapsed. I had to carry her back to the ship. She was muttering something about power and dark side and...something. Anyway, where's Silas?_"

Jaq let out a worried chuckle. "He's, uh,…around."

"_Well find him and tell him to get down here. He's bound to have questions for her._"

"Sure," he said through a forced grin. "I'll get right on that." The link went dead. "Crap," he said, putting away the comlink. _I'd rather pull adhesive strips off an angry wookiee._

"We should probably go ahead and tell Silas," said Brianna sounding both defeated and resolute. "He won't enjoy learning that we kept this from him."

Jaq stared at her for a minute, trying to find some reason to put off getting back in Carver's line of sight so soon but found none. "Yeah, I guess," he said finally. "Hopefully a little good news will lighten his mood."

"Well, if you plan on catching up with the General," said Bao-Dur, wearing a small knowing grin, "you two better start running."

"Us two?" asked Jaq. "You're not coming?"

"Me? No." The Iridonian gave him another wry grin. "No, I won't be able to keep up with you two. So I'll stay here; you two go ahead." He causally waved them off.

"Right," said Jaq dryly. He turned to Brianna and sighed. "Well, let's do this." After her wordless acknowledgement, the two took off after their fuming leader.

"Iridonian," Mandalore spoke suddenly, dragging the Zabrak's attention from his retreating comrades, "I've got a few questions for you."

* * *

It was relatively easy for Jaq and Brianna to track Silas; all they had to do was follow the trail of bewildered Mandalorians. And yet, even at a full run, it still took them almost ten minutes to finally locate the black-robed man. Carver had stormed clear across the Mandalorian camp, crossed the perimeter checkpoint, and was heading down the western trail. The _Ebon Hawk_ was down the southern trail.

Luckily, he hadn't gone too far down the trail before Jaq and Brianna caught up with him. They found him marching down the jungle trail; he hadn't lost any of the fury in his stride. More than that, the anger seemed to be rolling off him with every flap of his robe, chilling the air. So before they got too close, Jaq decided to make sure Silas knew they were there; no need for a repeat of his last encounter with the man.

"Silas!" Jaq yelled. "Silas! Hey, Silas!"

Carver finally came to a halt, sending a ripple of irritation through the Force. "What is it, Jaq?" he asked, not bothering to look back at them.

Jaq gave Brianna a quick look of worry, which she deftly returned. Turning back to face Silas, Jaq decided it was best not to try Carver's patience so he went straight to the point. "Visas is back."

Carver spun on his heel the instant he heard the Miraluka's name; his virulent gaze sent shivers through them. "Where is she?" His voice seemed to have momentarily dropped an octave.

"She's resting in the _Hawk_," Jaq answered, somewhat hurriedly. Carver's eyes narrowed, and Jaq felt a twinge of panic over his poor choice of words.

"More like she's recovering," Brianna quickly corrected. "Mira contacted us and told us she had collapsed."

Carver's expression lost some of its rage as it returned to its more familiar neutral state. "When did you learn this?"

"A few minutes ago," said Brianna.

Carver's head tilted up and to the side a fraction of a degree, and for a brief second, his expression seemed to soften, though only enough to be noticed by someone who knew him well. Then he swung his head back upright, as quickly as it came, the softness vanished.

Without another word, Carver spun to his left and walked off the path and into the jungle, leaving Jaq and Brianna standing there half-stunned, half-confused, and watching the spot where their leader had disappeared. They didn't remain for long; once they realized Carver wasn't coming back, the duo started after him.

* * *

The march back to the _Ebon __Hawk_ was filled with awkward, tense silence. The quiet wasn't just limited to the three humans making their way through the underbrush; the dark ripples in the Force that radiated from Carver made the birds flee towards distant skies and the beasts slink away in terror. Jaq and Brianna, too, felt the urge to seek safety, but they would allow themselves was to give Silas a minimum amount of lead. Any communication between them was limited to a few discrete facial movements, usually to convey their shared senses of nervousness and confusion. They knew Silas wouldn't remain silent for long. The only question was what would his reaction be to the news that was waiting for him?

Finally the area around them began to lighten, indicating that a break in the jungle was just ahead of them. When they entered the clearing, they found the _Ebon Hawk _was not exactly where they had left her. The ship was about ten meters closer to the northern jungle wall…and turned completely around. Carver paused for a second when he noticed the _Hawk_'s new orientation; apparently someone forgot to inform him that his ship was fully functional again.

A woman appeared on the far side of the ship and started toward them, her fiery hair seemed a few shades lighter in the midday sun. Mira readied herself as the distance between her and the approaching trio rapidly closed; even at a distance, she felt Carver's sulfur gaze. This_ is going to be fun. Why does he always come down here when he's pissed?_ Had Carver been in a slightly better mood, she would have donned her cocky grin and asked him exactly that. But the little voice of reason in her head was telling her: "No. No. No. Don't." Fortunately, Mira didn't have to worry about coming up with another greeting; Carver beat her to the punch.

"Where is she, Mira?" His voice was demanding, intimidating, and articulate; his feet were planted at shoulder's length, and his arms were crossed: the perfect imitation of a Nar Shaddaa interrogator. Good thing she'd had plenty of experience in dealing with them.

"I've got her in the medical room," Mira answered calmly. "She's unconscious, but she's breathing."

Carver seemed unphased by the Huntress's answer. "For how long?"

"I don't know…about an hour, maybe little less." She glanced behind Carver towards Jaq and Brianna; they were doing their best not to look at either her or Silas for too long.

"Have you tried waking her?" pressed Carver.

Mira's gaze snapped back to the man in black, and she noted that he had yet to blink. "I knew you were coming, but…" She shrugged. "She's out."

"Fine." His gaze drifted back to her, and he finally blinked. He glanced at the leather holster on her right hip; resting inside was a shiny silver weapon too large to be a blaster pistol with a contoured handle. "You have your weapon with you. Good."

The comment caught Mira a little by surprise, but she didn't let it show. "Why? We going to do some more training?"

Carver allowed himself a very small grin. "Not exactly." He broke eye contact with her and looked straight ahead. "Jaq!" Carver waited until the dark-haired man was standing next to Mira; a quick look to his right revealed Brianna now stood beside him. His smile widened, then his gaze jumped to Jaq and Mira. "I trust you two have spent your time wisely." It wasn't a question, so there wasn't a need for either of them to respond. After a couple of seconds, Carver maneuvered himself so that the _Ebon Hawk_ was at his back then shucked the outer layer of his robe. "Let us see what you have learned."

"What, now?" asked Mira. "What about Visas?"

"You said she was 'out,' did you not? There is not much to see." Carver raised his arm and bent his elbow, preparing to fire his lightsaber into his hand.

Jaq looked from Silas to Brianna, then back to Silas. "So, is this going to be two-on-two?"

"No," replied Carver. "Two-on-one." He looked over at Brianna. "Brianna, I want you to watch this. Pay close attention; what you observe will be the basis of future lessons."

A look of mild disappointment appeared on the Echani's face. "If you are sure." She took a few steps back.

"Aw, come on," said Mira. "Let her fight. It's obvious she wants to."

"That is not what this is about," Carver countered. "I have already seen her in combat; I know she can do. It is you two that I need to focus on right now."

Of the two of them, Jaq seemed to be the most bothered. "So why am I-"

"_Because_," Carver interjected. "I need to see if you can handle yourself against an advanced opponent."

"Silas," said Brianna, her voice elevated and steady, "I have another idea."

Carver arched his eyebrow. "Go ahead."

"I think it would be better if we conducted one-on-one drills," she said.

"You do?"

Brianna nodded. "If you really want to test Jaq, why don't I give Mira some instructions that are closer to her level, no offense intended Mira." She gave the Huntress a small bow.

Mira shot her a mild warning look. "Whatever." She glanced back over at Carver, grinned, then looked back at Brianna. "Though I like that idea." She turned to Jaq and patted him twice on the shoulder. "Good luck, flyboy," she said, walking towards Brianna. "You're gonna need it." The two women headed further into the clearing.

Jaq smirked at Mira's back then turned to Silas and immediately lost the sneer. Carver's expression was cold, focused, dangerous. He watched Carver flex the fingers on his upturned hand and the lightsaber spring into his grip. Jaq dropped his grey outer robe and unclipped his double-blade.

"I can no longer afford to go easy on you, Jaq," said Carver, bringing the unlit blade level in front of him. "Your training increases…" The crimson saber burst from the hilt. "…now."

Half a heartbeat later, he charged Jaq, not waiting for his student to activate his bladestaff. Jaq did trigger his weapon, but the blades didn't extend fast enough to intercept Carver's attack. Half a second before Carver's saber cleaved his head, Jaq felt a sickeningly familiar tightness in his throat. His eyes squeezed shut in reflex as his respiratory system was shut down once again.

"I warned you, Jaq," Carver's voice echoed in his ears. "This will be the _last_…time."

Jaq felt himself flying through the air, but he could breathe again. He opened his eyes and inhaled sharply. Using the Force, he righted himself and braced for the coming impact. He hit the ground, immediately threw his weight forward and his double-saber to the side, and slid back about two meters. Jaq made sure his bladestaff was back in front of him before he diverted his attention over to Silas.

"I gave you plenty of time to ready your weapon, Jaq," said Carver. "Future enemies will not." He spun his single blade in a figure-8 then held it forward. "Including me." Carver stepped in and brought his saber back behind his head.

Jaq settled into a defensive stance with his double-blade off-centered slightly to his right and waited. He knew better than to attack first despite the natural aggression of double-bladed combat. When he faced Silas, all the rules went out the airlock, and he was at a permanent disadvantage, partially due to the fact that the psychological aspect of his weapon had no effect on his teacher, but mostly due to the fact that the man seemed to know more about Jaq's style of fighting than he did. It was more irritating than discouraging; he prided himself on being a killer, a Jedi killer, and yet standing in front of him was a former Jedi, his master…teacher, yes, but even so, this man was always at least two swings ahead of him.

"Very good, Jaq," said Carver, wearing a dark grin. "You remember."

Jaq smiled for a moment as he absorbed the small complement. The lesson was an easy one; he'd learned it a decade ago: control your opponent; force his hand; make him move how _you_ want him to move.

Carver angled the blade down towards the ground. "Now, let us see how well you react." He launched himself at Jaq, bringing his lightsaber around in a wide arc. Jaq stepped in and brought his double-blade up, catching Carver's saber with his forward blade. Carver immediately pushed up, rotated his lightsaber beneath and behind the opposing weapon, shoved forward, then intercepted the rear blade. The maneuver was quick, and its message was clear: _he_ was going to control the flow of this fight.

Jaq's right eye twitched, and he reversed his swing. Carver easily blocked the stroke, angling his blade back slightly to let Jaq's blade slide off his as the apprentice twisted his bladestaff around over his head. As the ends of the blade came around again and again, Carver batted them back, denying Jaq the chance to build up the momentum he needed to launch into the more dangerous sequences.

Jaq hated this part of the fight, hated the fact that Carver could make him look like a fool, like a child with a lightsaber. He'd spent years training to fight Jedi. And he had killed them…quickly, easily, efficiently. Granted, not with a lightsaber, but he was no stranger to double-bladed combat. And yet, against Carver, none of that seemed to matter. All his years of combat meant nothing whenever he crossed blades with the guy, and it frustrated him. Every one of his attacks was countered, intercepted, even steered, and every time he attacked, he seemed to slow down a little more…

What Jaq didn't know was that Carver had set him up. Confronting Jaq with the prospect of facing an advanced opponent, Carver had put him in a mindset of total offense, end the battle before you are overwhelmed. But he then shut down that offense with series after series of precisely-timed intercepts, using speed instead of power, that were sure to aggravate the once-Scoundrel. And to make sure Jaq was riled, Carver decided to fight dirty. The fatigue Jaq was starting to feel was actually caused by an illusion. He wasn't getting slower; Carver was getting faster. Ever so subtly, he had started to pick up his speed, parrying incoming attacks a fraction of a second faster each time. What Carver had done, simply put, was lure his apprentice into a trap, a judgment trap. He hadn't been concerned with his student's skills; he was evaluating his focus. Sometimes in the heat of battle, killing your opponent takes priority over everything else, and you lose your awareness. He didn't have to figure out everything that was going on, but Jaq did have to realize that his current strategy wasn't working and that breaking from combat, putting distance between Carver and himself, was his best solution.

It was one of the lessons Carver had struggled with the most during his days as a padawan. Consequently, it was one of the few he still regarded as worthy of passing to his students: clarity of mind while in battle. Victory in combat against his old Jedi master had been near-impossible in the early years of his training, and the man had frequently pushed Carver to the point of desperation. His attacks, while fast, steadily became more sloppy, weak, and erratic. But the endgame occurred when the tunnel-vision set in. His focus and attention shattered beyond recovery, and he no longer even tried to read his opponent. Had he been in a real battle, Carver would have been killed easily. Fortunately, his master was kind enough to simply disarm him, floor him, and force him to meditate until his clarity returned. Then they would start over.

Now it was Jaq's turn to learn this lesson, and so far, the apprentice was showing many of the signs of desperation: sweating, unfocused vision, erratic reaction times, and random but predictable attack vectors. But there was one way for Carver to know for sure. He steadily steered Jaq's attacks into the proper positions, and waited for him to make the test blow. Then it came: a shoulder-to-hip slash. Carver angled his blade and intercepted the attack, but instead of breaking the lock, he pushed Jaq's bladestaff into an upright position, forming a cross with their weapons. This was it; if Jaq retained enough clarity, he would jump back now, take a breath and…he didn't. Instead he tried to knock away Carver's saber with the other end of his weapon.

Carver was disappointed in Jaq; he had lost himself in the heat of battle. While emotions like anger and rage could fuel your aggression, increase your strength and your power, if you let emotions turn to desperation, you'll blind yourself to the obvious and become vulnerable. It was an easy mistake to make; one made by countless students in the past and will surely be made by countless students in the future. But it was still disappointing to witness. As a padawan, his master had warned him of the dangers of giving over fully to aggression: that it would erode him, lead him to the dark side and most likely to his death. But such warnings held no merit for him now. Like many Jedi teachings, this one was more of a half-truth. Aggression never weakened him; it was panic and loss of focus that did. And although desperation wasn't the dark side, the line between them was thin.

Carver had to end the fight now, before his apprentice did something permanent to himself. Parrying another swing, he flexed the fingers on his left hand, causing his second lightsaber to shoot into his hand. The silver blade sprang to life and caught the leading blade in Jaq's next swing. Carver saw the flash of surprise in his eyes and used the moment of bewilderment to reach across and catch the other end of the bladestaff with his red saber. In a violent twist, Carver forced the double-blade end over end until it was wrenched from Jaq's grip. The crimson blades flickered out as the weapon spiraled away, leaving Jaq totally vulnerable to his next strike. Carver reversed the grips on his weapons and slammed his right knee into Jaq's gut. His apprentice started to double over, but Carver socked him square in the forehead, knocking him flat on his back.

Carver couldn't hear Jaq's hard breathing, but he could see his body shaking from his exertions. However, Carver wasn't done with him yet, no; he was going to burn this lesson into his student. He stepped over Jaq's right foot and stood by his shoulder, deciding to pin Jaq's arm under his foot…just in case. Then, in a slow gentle arc, he swung his red saber out and down, aiming for Jaq's neck, but in a show of extreme precision, he stopped the blade mere centimeters above his throat. Jaq sealed his eyes in reflex and tensed; he could feel the heat of the lightsaber underneath the entire left side of his jaw, singeing his skin and the short hairs that sprouted there.

"You are dead, Rand," stated Carver in a cold tone. "Dead because you lost control. Of the battle and yourself. I did not expect this kind of mistake from _you_." He went silent for a minute, watching Jaq grit his teeth; if nothing else, the pain of this lesson was sinking in. "You know what our enemies are capable of; is _this_ how you plan to confront them?" Carver shook his head. "I should just dump you back on Nar Shaddaa and spare you from the short, painful future that awaits you…since you are clearly not taking my lessons seriously." He knew Jaq wouldn't dare try to argue with him now, not with a lightsaber at his throat. So this was probably his last chance to make Jaq understand the magnitude of their situation.

"I cannot," Carver continued, "I _will_ not, tolerate _anything_ less than one-hundred percent from you, Jaq! You will not survive if you do not commit yourself fully; you know this, you have acknowledged it. Now you need to _act!_" His right hand twitched, and he heard Jaq suck in air between his teeth. "If you are indeed committed to this mission, to me, to this path you have chosen, you will pick yourself up, you will continue this exercise, and you will stay focused." Finally Carver moved the blade away from Jaq's throat and stepped off his arm. He deactivated both lightsabers and slid the left hilt back into its cradle. He returned his attention to his prone apprentice; the burn left by his blade was borderline severe. Jaq's skin hadn't blistered, but the area running from underneath his jaw line to middle of his throat was stained several deep shades of red.

Jaq pried his eyes open and moved his hand up to give his burn a few investigative touches. It hurt. Not like hell, but it hurt. So he rolled over, slid his right leg under him, and pushed himself to his feet. He turned his head, ignoring the sharp radiating pain, and looked Carver square in the eyes. The look Jaq wore could have been interpreted as either controlled anger or resolve, but Carver didn't care which. The matter was settled; Jaq made his choice. Carver's trademark half-grin slid gracefully over his face.

"Good," he said in a low voice, laying his hand over Jaq's right collar bone. "I knew I was not training a quitter." Carver let his hand slide off the man's shoulder as he turned his back to him, and took a few steps forward. "Collect your weapon, Jaq, and we-" A double _snap-hiss_ reached his ears, and his half-grin morphed into a full one. He flicked his arm out, ignited his red lightsaber, and spun around to catch the leading blade of Jaq's bladestaff. "If I see a repeat of that last performance, Jaq," warned Carver, still wearing his grin, "you will need more than a burn pack to treat your injury." Jaq scoffed, letting his own small grin appear, and lashed out with the other end of his weapon, forcing Carver to duck to avoid the swing.

Nearer to the center of the clearing, Brianna and Mira stood watching the two men resume their duel, their own drills on hold while something far more interesting was taking place.

Mira held her arms across her chest. "I'm glad that wasn't me," she said, just loud enough for Brianna to hear.

A wry grin appeared on Brianna's face and she copied the Huntress's stance. "He's such a liar." Mira glanced over at the Echani with a raised eyebrow. "Silas," Brianna continued. "He said he wasn't going to go easy on Jaq."

Mira's interest was peaked. "You're saying _that's_ what he's like when he's _toying_ with you?" She turned back to the battle; the guys seemed to be a lot more animated this time. They were giving ground, taking ground, sweeping low, flipping back; it was a veritable whirlwind of red light. "I'm _really_ glad that wasn't me."

"It's not so much _toying_," said Brianna, canting her head in thought, "as it is _teaching_."

Mira raised a finger. "Oh. So he's one of those throw-you-to-the-rancors-and-hope-you-can-survive kinds of teacher."

"Sometimes experience is the best way to learn." Brianna watched Jaq jump away from Silas, then spin his double-blade around his body to gain momentum before returning to the fight. "Besides, Silas doesn't throw you the rancors unless he thinks you can handle them."

Mira smirked. "And here I thought he just like beating up on Jaq." Carver had arced his blade in front of him, catching Jaq's bladestaff in a vertical position, but instead of attacking Carver again, Jaq vaulted over him, angling his double-blade to keep's Carver's weapon in check. The move took Mira by surprise; her eyebrows jumped. "Not bad." As Jaq began his descent, Silas started moving as well. Keeping their blades locked, he twisted around and slammed his foot into Jaq's gut; the impact knocked him back much farther than it should have. Both women winced at the blow. "Hm. Force kick," noted the redhead. "I bet that hurt." She turned to the Echani. "So, Carver really believes Jaq can handle all that?"

Brianna squeezed her lips together. "Jaq's skills are…commendable," she admitted, slowly. "He knows more than he lets on; easy to underestimate and overlook." She paused for a moment. "But he's lazy, crude."

"Has no brain-mouth filter," Mira added. "Yeah. That describes a lot of men I knew. You get used to it. Or you jab him with a Bothan stunner and lock him in a storage closet for a few days."

Brianna gave her a questioning look, but Mira kept a neutral expression and chose not to elaborate. She glanced back at the match between Silas and Jaq, which showed little signs of slowing down soon.

"So, how'd it happen?" Mira asked abruptly.

"How did what happen?"

"Carver. I also knew plenty of guys like him, and they all had one thing in common: short tempers. So, what set him off?"

Brianna sighed; she'd just finished telling this story. "Ready your weapon, Mira," she said, drawing the vibrosword strapped to her right shin guard. She turned and put some distance between them. "I will fill you in on the details while we run drills."

Mira pulled her weapon, dubbed the pistol-saber, from its holster and ignited the orange blade. She dropped into the offensive stance Carver had shown her and grinned. "You ready?"

Brianna angled her sword with the tip over her left shoulder. "Shall I start from the beginning?"

* * *

-3 hours later-

"What did you encounter?" Silas was kneeling next to the bed Visas Marr was currently occupying, the only bed in the medbay, staring at her cloth facemask. She had regained consciousness barely five minutes ago and would have returned to the starboard crew quarters immediately had Silas not been there to stop her. He was eager for answers, but he also didn't want her moving around too soon for her own sake.

Visas stared straight ahead, trying to pick through the fog of her memories with great difficulty. "I cannot remember much."

"Try," said Carver in an even tone.

Visas' mental struggling became audible. "There was…a…a building…cold…dark…in the Force."

"What was it?" Carver asked, leaning forward slightly.

The Miraluka placed her head in her hand. "A…temple? ...No…"

"What happened to you?" Something was setting off alarms in Carver's head. It was unlike Visas to be so vague, so uncertain.

She hung her head. "I cannot…remember."

"You must remember _something_. You were gone for weeks." He paused as Visas continued to try and clear her clouded mind. "What about your injuries? Who caused you pain?"

After about a minute of frustrated searching, the blind woman's head lifted slightly. "A droid…no…a man…He had a…synthetic voice."

"What about him? What did he look like?"

Visas shook her head. "I only saw a mask. He felt…familiar."

Carver furrowed his brow. "Familiar? How?"

"…In the Force…very familiar." Visas inhaled sharply. "My master! He is a servant of my master."

"The lord of hunger," said Carver, ignoring Visas' choice of words to identify him. She still hadn't given him the Sith's name, but now was not the time to address either concern.

"Yes."

"What was he doing?"

"…Gathering…"

Carver straightened. "What? People? The Force?"

Visas struggled, but could not find any answer. She shook her head in resignation. "…Just…darkness."

Carver let out a light sigh. As much as he hated to admit it, he probably was going to get anything more from her today. And he did not want to push her too hard so soon. "That will be enough for now, Visas. Get some rest; perhaps more will come." He rose to his feet, and turned to leave.

"I am sorry I cannot remember more, my lord," came Visas' small voice from behind him.

Silas turned to face her, displaying neither anger nor sadness; just calm regret. "No. The fault is mine. I should not have let you go there alone."

"No, my lord," said the Miraluka. "I knew I had to be alone. That is why…that is why I was allowed to return, I believe."

The wheels in Silas' head started turning. "This man was a servant of your old master. Perhaps he thought you were still one as well."

"That is a logical assumption. It would-"

"Enough for now, Visas," said Silas, reflexively holding up his hand. "There will be time for further discussions later. Now rest." He headed out of the medbay.

"Yes, my lord."

Carver sealed the hatch behind him, and walked into the main cabin, letting some of his checked anger finally bleed through his expression. _Unacceptable! Completely unacceptable! _He leaned over the large display console in the center of the room, propping himself up with his hands, and let his head drop. Things were not how they were supposed to be. Not with Visas, and certainly not with Master Kavar. _He was not_ _supposed to get away; Kavar was not supposed to escape that cantina._ He had the Jedi right where he wanted him: a place with tightly-packed civilians. It was the perfect set up. Kavar's movements would be limited to avoid collateral damage, a lethal handicap considering Carver had enough explosives charges with him to level half the building. _Had Tobin not shown up..._ Carver's nostrils flared as he recalled how the Colonel's soldiers stormed the place, stirring up enough chaos and confusion for Kavar to slip away. But out of everything Tobin did, the one thing that had angered Carver the most was the last thing the Colonel said to him.

"_I have two patrols of soldiers waiting outside. They have orders to kill you on sight, but they won't stand a chance against you."_

_It was unnecessary. Irresponsible. Wasteful._

"_Appearances have to be maintained," countered the Colonel. "It cannot be known that we have support from a Jedi, even a fallen one; not yet. We have to be able to quell rumors that you are our ally."_

_Turning the city's automated defenses against us would have been sufficient, Tobin. What you did was disgusting. _As a former general, it burned him to see Tobin willing to throw away the lives of loyal men like that. Soldiers are not toys to be played with and discarded at a whim. _Thirty soldiers massacred just to maintain a political illusion. Disgraceful. _

"_Revan, you lying Huttspawn!"_

Carver was startled slightly by the sound of his own voice echoing in his head. It was a memory from long ago, back when he was a general of the Republic. Oddly enough, it was a memory from the first time he set foot on his Force-forsaken Hell moon. _It was right after..._he shook away the memories that threatened to resurface. Now was not the time to dwell on the past.

Silas raised his head and stared at the moving image of Onderon floating above the holoprojector. At least Kavar was isolated on the planet; he couldn't leave or send any transmissions, meaning he wouldn't be able to alert Zez Kai-Ell or Lonna Vash that Carver was out to kill them. That would be a disaster; the Jedi would fade back into the shadows, and it would take years or decades to track them all down. The Sith would be easier to find; they might even come to him if he made himself a nice target. But, even there he had a problem; his students weren't yet ready to face the army of Sith warriors. Carver turned his head towards the corridor leading to the garage and starboard crew quarters; the sounds of conversation came drifting in from that direction. _That needs to change..._

to be continued...

End Note: Maybe it's me being my own worst critic, but I feel compelled to assure everyone that I am keeping a close eye on Carver's skills, powers, etc. He may have completely humiliated/dominated Jaq, but I will not let him become a broken character, writer's promise. The next chapter is "Scarred," and I've already begun working on it.


	12. Appearances

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, or these characters. But, some of the names are mine, like Gavin Hochek, Ansha Ineva, and the _Genima_-class dropship.

Author's note- Well, look who's back. It's been what? 8-ish months? I guess I owe my readers an explanation. Let me just start by saying I did not like the last chapter. While there were some good parts, as a whole, it was kind of a let down. So for most of last summer I didn't do any new writing. I had to step back for a while and examine where I wanted this story to go. And the ideas I came up with surprised even me. As you read later chapters, please keep in mind three things: 1: Quests are not easy. 2: Quests are not fun. and 3: I am a _very_ evil writer.

Also, you will notice this is chapter 12, not 10. I went back and made the three parts of chapter 8 their own chapter. They worked just find on their own. This chapter, however, is a two-parter. As they always seem to these days, it was running a little long. So again, I am cutting it in half.

Chapter 12: Appearances

-51 days later; 2457 Dxun local time-

Silas Carver leaned back on top of the offline hyperdrive, reveling in the silence that filled the room, and let the warm shadows wrap around and permeate him. With nine others living on the _Ebon Hawk_, finding a moment of peace or solitude was difficult at best; one of the reasons why he chose to sleep in the engine room as opposed to the third bed in the port crew quarters. This room was his chamber, where he could quiet the chaos in his mind and finally relax. It was as close to obtaining inner peace as he had ever come since his days as a Jedi, but he always kept himself in check; the last thing he wanted was to start falling back onto old habits. The Dark Side was his ally now, a raging hurricane of raw power that was fueled by passion and emotions. Calming the storm to achieve his clarity was not always easy, and at times it felt almost hypocritical. But that was the price he would to pay for the path he had chosen: living in the dark while relying on his force of will to keep himself from drowning in his power. There was only one other man he knew of who had achieved this…balance, and the twisted path he had been forced down did little to ease Carver's doubts about his own destiny. Fortunately, he was taking steps now in preparation for the dangerous future looming ahead.

* * *

The most accurate way to describe the events of the past seven weeks was boot camp. For nineteen of Dxun's twenty-six-hour day cycle, Carver subjected his students to a training regimen so intense, it sent them crawling for their beds each night. He felt like General Carver again, training soldiers for another imminent war, one very likely to have consequences extending beyond any immediate victory, much like the last one he fought in. But he was much more now than that mere Jedi General from the Mandalorian Wars had ever been. He was stronger, he was wiser, and his connection to the Force had never been greater. And with his new power came new insights. He could feel it in his gut and in the Force; their war would stretch beyond Onderon and Dxun, perhaps even beyond Dantooine and the Jedi enclave. His students would have to fight that war and win it, so Carver did what he had to: he pushed them…hard. Harder than ever, faster than ever, and with a sense of detachment that allowed him to be impartial without being too cruel. To be fair, there were times when even Carver himself felt the strain of his regimen, but fortunately he had a new ally to help him: the Mandalorian clan leader. Shortly after they returned from Onderon, Carver had contacted Mandalore with a proposition, and together they created a training schedule that was both efficient and brutal. After finalizing the details, they sealed their deal with a firm handshake, forging a true alliance.

Carver's students didn't know what hit them. At 0449 Dxun local time on the second day after their leader's return from Onderon, the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ was torn from their sleep by an impossibly loud Silas Carver. Shouting at them point-blank as they laid in their beds, he had them on their feet and scrambling for their clothes and gear before the fog of confusion had a chance to lift from their minds. Within minutes, they were all standing outside in the wet morning grass facing Carver, Kreia, HK-47, and their second surprise of the morning: the Mandalorian clan leader, who introduced himself as their new drill sergeant.

Before the shock had a chance to subside, Carver and the Mandalore had their trainees running in a line for the jungle trail. And run they did, because HK had his blasters drawn and was counting down from his favorite number: 0.01. Little did they know, however, that dodging blaster fire from the assassin droid would be the easiest, and the most common, exercise they would be performing in the weeks to come.

* * *

A smile tugged at Carver's lips as he again wandered through his memories of the past months and reflected on how much had changed in that time. It was a rare expression for him, devoid of sarcasm or intent; a genuine, almost warm grin that conveyed nothing less than pure satisfaction. He didn't dare show that smile to his students, lest he risk losing his general's façade and authority. But concealed in the dark, carefully hidden from the others, he allowed himself this moment and this smile. No, he reminded himself, there was one other who was now allowed to see his smile.

* * *

The world gently rose and fell before him as Carver stood, arms crossed in their usual manner, watching his students undergo a most strenuous exercise. The name of the game was simple: push-ups, but the lesson being taught: endurance. This session was nearing one-hundred and eighty minutes. Almost three hours of unbroken, repeating movements during the hottest part of an unusually humid day in the middle of their landing zone with the Onderonian sun beating straight down on them. And none of them had a clue as to when Carver might finally decide to let them stop. The setting couldn't have been more perfect. Carver casually swept his eyes up and down the line of students, checking to see if they were still meeting his expectations.

Directly in front of him was Brianna. While it was obvious she was no stranger to extreme training, the sheen of sweat covering her brow betrayed her growing fatigue. But it was the only sign; her pace was exemplary, faltering only seldomly and slightly. Silas couldn't help but smile as he watched her work. Brianna was the only one who had admitted to thoroughly enjoying the rough exercises and took to them with an unrivaled enthusiasm. Seeing this devotion from her only reinforced how important to him she had become. Granted there had always been something between them; he had always enjoyed, or at least entertained, her displays of affection towards him. But one evening, a couple of weeks after Onderon, their relationship changed. In the time it took to switch on a lightsaber Silas was struck with an incredible epiphany. It was strange for him to believe at first; Carver thought he had become too pragmatic, too jaded by time, to be able to feel this way about someone again. And yet, lacking an alternative explanation, even he had to finally admit that he loved her. But it wasn't the kind of love that made him weak-kneed and wax poetic at the drop of a credit chip, but the kind that filled him with a fierce desire to protect her, to fight for her, to die for her, but more importantly, to _survive _for her. It was his vow to her; as long as she stood beside him, he would end every enemy that threatened her, or at least the ones she left for him to end. Then later, once the galaxy had calmed down, perhaps he would allow himself to soften a little more. A new part of him wished that time could be now, but he knew he that wasn't possible, not with the future unraveling as it was. So, he was forced to wait and let the anticipation grow, which gave him all the more incentive to succeed.

With a sharp inhale, Carver forced himself to set aside those thoughts and turned his attention to Mira. The Huntress was exhausted but refusing to quit; she would not be the first to admit defeat. For an experienced neophyte, she had an admiral resolve, but her form had begun to break down in the last five minutes. For a moment Carver considered allowing her to end the routine early, but immediately decided against it. It would be an insult to her and her abilities for him to go easy on her at this point, especially given how far she had come already. Mira had proven to be a quick study, quicker even than Jaq had been, finding an ideal niche for herself after a week into their combat exercises. While Carver's other students refined their bladework, Mira continued to hone her skills as a marksman with her hybrid weapon. With the Force guiding her hand, her integrated blaster pistol became as deadly as a sniper rifle, and her precision even drew HK's attention and occasional backhanded praise. So Carver was confident Mira had enough focus to see this exercise through to the end.

On the other side of Brianna were Visas and Bao-Dur. These two, Carver had to admit, had surprised him the most over the past number of weeks. Visas only spent one day recovering from her injuries, then she threw herself uncomplaining into the training schedule. As the exercises became more rigorous, she swapped out her Sith robes for a flexible armor underweave she had borrowed from one of the Mandalorian women. It was about half a size too big for her as she lacked the Mandalorian musculature to fill it out properly, but it was a tolerable inconvenience for her. Visas also replaced her hood with a simple white bandage that was intricately woven around her head, covering her eye sockets and half her forehead. Plastered flat against her head with sweat, just like everyone else's, was her jet-black hair. Even now, Carver was surprised that he was only now just finding out the Miraluka's hair color, or rather it made him wonder what else he didn't know about her. As it turned out, Bao-Dur was the only one who had seen her hair beforehand, the only one who had ever thought to ask her about it. The Miraluka kept her hair cut short. Not as short as Carver's, thanks in part to his recent discovery of the Mandalorian barber, but still shorter than many of the men he once fought with nearly a decade ago. The strands were just long enough to gently curve out when dry, but during a grueling exercise like this one, her hair was matted to her forehead. Appearance aside, Carver had to admire her persistence and technique; overall she had done the fewest number of push-ups, but her pace never once slowed or wavered. It was like watching a metronome, and Carver gave her a small nod as he acknowledged her dedication.

But if Visas was dedicated, then Bao-Dur was creative. The Iridonian was managing to keep up with the rest of the group rather well despite the fact that he lacked one of the elements required to complete the session in the way Carver had intended. Just before his left arm completely gave out around the twenty-minute mark, the Iridonian field-tweaked his cybernetic arm to rhythmically expand and contract the energy stream binding his mechanical hand to his shoulder. At a glance, it looked like Bao-Dur was doing one-handed push-ups. Normally Silas would have considered this cheating, but by continuing the session, by wearing himself out through conventional exercises then not do anything else except quietly watch the ground advance then retreat over and over and over again for forty more minutes, Bao-Dur was displaying remarkable mental focus and innovation, two traits that the tech had demonstrated many times as he struggled to keep up with the others during their training sessions. Carver almost regretted…

He shook away the thought before it had a chance to complete itself. His field of vision shuddered a little as it rose, drawing Carver's attention to his last, and first, student. "You are slowing down, Jaq," he warned, glancing down at his apprentice, upon whose shoulder blades his feet were now planted. "Stop relying on your muscles for strength, and use the Force to sustain you."

Jaq had some difficulty finding his voice. "This would be a-"

"Atch!" Carver cut him off. "Talking wastes energy best used elsewhere." He continued his speech while looking straight, bobbing up and down as he spoke. "With the power of the Force at your disposal, whatever weight I might add to your burden is insignificant." He directed his comments at Jaq, but he declared them in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "All you have to do is harness that power and mold it to your desires. Remember, efficiency is the key. From this point forward, our enemies will not be thugs or rag-tag militiamen, but trained soldiers, warriors, Force-adepts, and their masters. And we will be outnumbered at every turn. You must be able to face and defeat every enemy that crosses you, and not all of our enemies carry weapons. Exhaustion will your greatest opponent; it will make you hesitant and careless, which will get you picked off by some nameless grunt with an otherwise sub par aim. The only defense against exhaustion is efficiency and conditioning; waste not one drop of energy in battle; you never know when you will need it. So concentrate…and keep your pace up, or I will add another hour to your session."

It was a small humiliation, one his apprentice would struggle though and grow stronger from. Perhaps that was why he pushed Jaq harder than the others: although he was training four others, he considered Jaq to be his apprentice, his first true student. The Jedi council had never assigned him a padawan learner. Before they had a chance to, he left to follow Revan to fight against the Mandalorians. And when he returned, the only one who ever did, the council exiled him. But he was teaching a student now, nearly a decade later. Of course the irony of Carver training his student to help him bring down the Jedi Order was not lost to him. A sudden flash of a thought crossed his mind. _Does...did Kreia feel the same when she was retraining me?_

Thirty minutes later, the session finally came to an end. "Alright, time!" stated Carver, stomping his right foot down at the height of Jaq's current push-up. His apprentice dropped to the ground with a surprised grunt, and Carver casually stepped off him. A chorus of heavy exhausted breathing filled his ears, but without missing a beat, he ordered, "Everybody up." As usual, Brianna was on her knees and pushing up onto semi-shaky legs well before the others.

"You heard the man," said Mandalore, striding into Carver's field of view. "Let's go." He walked up to Mira, stooped down, and held out his hand. "Come on Huntress. Up." The red-head wearily took it and allowed the Mandalorian to hoist her to her feet.

Carver turned around and gave his apprentice the same assistance. "Well done, Jaq," he said, pulling the man vertical.

"No problem," replied Jaq between ragged breaths. "I'm getting…used to it."

"Do not get used to it," Carver countered, thrusting a finger at his face. "_Never _get used to it. If you do not like your fate, then _fight_ _it_!"

Jaq propped his hands on his knees for a moment as he regained his composure. "You saying you…wanted me to…throw you off?"

"It does not matter now," said Carver with a shrug. "You chose not to." He started to turn, then gave Jaq a sideways glance. "But, since you asked, had you attempted to displace me and succeeded, I would have kicked you in the stomach for insubordination…hard. Every action has its consequences." Carver wanted to smile; he could tell by the brief microscopic half-twitch in Jaq's left eye that the man was suppressing a flinch. But grinning would have betrayed his improvisation, and Carver preferred it when Jaq was alert and attentive. But, a nervous apprentice was also a clumsy one. "However, I would have let you continue the session without me standing on your back. So, I will let you decide whether or not you made the right choice."

Carver walked over to Mandalore, who had just finished pulling Bao-Dur to his feet. "Alright, _aruetiise_," said the clan leader, turning to face everyone, "since you just gave your arms a decent work out, let's give them a little break." He paused for a couple of seconds to let the glimmer of hope start to shine. "And what better way to relax than with a nice jog? So file up and move!"

* * *

_Brianna..._ Silas' thoughts turned to the blue-eyed Echani living in the room next to him, as they frequently did in his moments of peace. He let out a quiet laugh as he recalled how nonchalantly he had acted towards Brianna at times; how blind he had been. No, not blind, just distracted. It wasn't as if his feelings suddenly appeared out of nowhere and struck him across the face, though it seemed like they did at the time. Through retrospection, Silas could see the signs, the emotions that had grown parallel to and beyond his respect and admiration for her, yet remained hidden behind his ambition and agenda. So it was really no surprise that his feelings revealed themselves once he set his other desires aside. And like most things that happened between he and Brianna, it started with a sparring match, a simple innocent duel that had started in the twilight hours of the Dxun moon.

* * *

A gentle chorus of nocturnal echoes whispered in Silas' ears as he stood in a preparation stance across from the similarly-posed, white-haired Echani, another short pause in their ritual duel. They were both unarmed, their weapons lying atop a nearby supply crate, and garbed in only light tunics to keep their cores warm; they didn't even bother with footwear. The crisp night air was invigorating; every deep breath of cold air he took in drained away a bit more of the fatigue that was trying to set in, and the slight breeze licking across his bare skin further stimulated his battle-heightened senses. The darkness that filled the clearing was near absolute; a sign that their match had been going on for at least a couple of hours. The moon was positioned between Onderon and the system's star, so the valley was illumination only by a thin crescent of light reflecting off the planet's edge and clusters of small white dots across the planet denoting solar-eclipsed cities. Yet within the darkness, Brianna's white form stood out in stark contrast, drawing his attention like a beacon. And when his eyes failed him, the excitement and passion he felt rolling off her betrayed her location.

With one last intake of breath, Silas started the next round. His opening move was a predictable one: a simple right hook; an attack Brianna could and would effortlessly bend around. But that was his intention: not to strike her, but to steer her. When she moved to counterattack, Carver spun aside, keeping the same amount of distance between her fist and his face. Using his momentum, he swung his arm around, forcing Brianna to drop. Within a heartbeat, she was on the attack, attempting to knock his legs out from under him. Silas jumped to avoid the low strike, and launched a kick of his own, aiming for the side of her head. Brianna rolled under his foot and sprung into a backwards cartwheel that would have broken Silas' jaw had he not retreated a step.

This was what their duels had become: a choreographed dance of counterattacks. They had been sparring together for so long, they could read each other on instinct. Both of them were easily ten steps ahead of the other, already knowing the best way maneuver around blows that wouldn't come until long into the duel. But that fact hardly discouraged them; instead, they used their foresight to make their movements as efficient as possible, enabling them to drag out their duels for hours on end without the fear of exhausting themselves. However, that did not mean their sparring matches were any less intense; after particularly long sessions, they couldn't help but notice that the air towards the center of their dueling circles, the area where they did the most fighting, was usually a couple of degrees warmer than it was around the outside the circle. They always found the phenomenon amusing. And even in this duel, despite the extra cold brought on by nightfall, they could feel that patch of warm air as they danced around each other.

Brianna closed the gap with a Force-assisted lunge. As her fist came around, Carver parried the blow with his forearm. She switched her attack to her elbow, forcing him to jerk to the side. However, the dodge put him right in line with her left fist, which was coming at his temple. He grabbed the punch with his left hand and threw it wide, pushing Brianna slightly off-balance and finally giving him a opening. He threw his punch, forcing her to throw her head back, but before he could execute a follow-through, she shifted her weight and kicked out. He blocked the blow with his shin, bent around her recoiling right hook, moved to kick her feet out from under her, and watched Brianna execute a somersault to dodge him. Had it been anyone else, at that moment he would have sent them flying with a Force blast. Instead, he waited for her to land, and caught her next kick, tucking her foot under his arm.

"You do know you are taking advantage of my generosity," he told her with a half-grin.

"Yes," she said, returning the expression. With a quick twist, her hand was on the ground and her other leg was in the air, coming right at him. Silas let go of her foot and leaned back just far enough for the kick to pass just centimeters in front of him. He watched Brianna, still balancing on one hand, as he brought her body around, and saw his opening. The way she was twisting her body around, she would lose track of him until she righted herself.

So Carver made his move. He dashed forward, keeping himself in her blind spot and placed himself directly behind the Echani as she jumped to her feet. His first reaction was to force her into a submission hold, but that plan was cut short when he realized she already had his arm tucked under hers. The move confused him; with their proximity and difference in size, she didn't have enough leverage to move him. Then he felt a tight grip on his wrist, and her stratagem was revealed. She had pulled that first move to stall him, to make him hesitate long enough for her to set up her real countermove. She vaulted over him and twisted herself around, intent using the momentum she was building to throw him onto his back when she landed. He watched her roll over his head, ignoring the slight pain coming from his arm as it was being pulled back. _Very clever, my dear. However..._ Silas jumped as well. In midair, he yanked his trapped arm, pulling both them around to face each other. The surprise flashed on Brianna's face just long enough for him to register it before the expression became a knowing grin. She hit the ground on her back just under a second later. To avoid falling on her, Silas planted his heels wide and let his momentum throw him forward onto his knees so he landed directly over her. He leaned forward a little to emphasize his next words.

"Match point." he said in a voice just louder than a whisper. Brianna didn't reply; she simply stared up at him, smiling. As he slowly regained control of his breathing, he became aware of a tugging sensation on his face. He was smiling, too. He was actually enjoying himself. Despite the weight of the pressures he carried on his shoulders, the dangers that he would soon be walking everyone under his charge into, right now, at this moment, he was having fun. He was having fun sparring with Brianna. The thought struck him as obvious yet odd, and it made him pause for a second.

In the past, his matches with her had had some purpose or motive attached to them. At first, they were just training exercises, a way for him to learn a new fighting technique. But as their duels progressed, they became less about Brianna teaching him the ins and outs of unarmed combat and more about him trying to make her see his point of view, his methods, his philosophies. And he accomplished those goals; he turned her away from Atris, convinced her to honor her mother's bloodline and walk his path. So within the scope of his agenda, the duels had served their purpose; he no longer needed to continue them. Yet, he did…they did. And the reason seemed simple enough: he enjoyed the ritual duels, and he enjoyed sparring with Brianna. But an old gut feeling began gnawing at him, telling him that wasn't the whole reason. It bugged him, because the last time his gut told him something like that, he'd…

Silas realized he was still staring down at Brianna, or rather staring into her eyes. They had landed at just the right position for her eyes to catch the narrow crescent of light bouncing off the planet. There wasn't much light to reflect, but compared to the thick darkness surrounding them, they were brilliant, mesmerizing. In that moment, he perception of her changed. It wasn't like the proverbial flipping of the switch; more like finding the piece that connected the two halves of the puzzle. He forgot about his agenda for the moment and truly saw who was in front of him: a woman; a fierce, strong, passionate, dedicated, beautiful woman. Carver gently traced two fingers over her eyebrow, down her soft cheek, and under her chin, tilting her head up just slightly.

"Perfect." Without another thought, he leaned in further. Half a heartbeat later, she was rising to meet him, and their lips touched, finally completing the kiss they had started way back when the first came to this moon. It was a moment of pure bliss, a feeling Carver hadn't experienced in a decade, maybe longer. The sudden rush that swept through him made his head spin and almost kicked him into combat mode, but all thoughts of violence were quickly washed away as he breathed in her scent. Time slowed to a crawl as they fell back onto the ground. Nothing else registered in his mind except Brianna, the taste of her on his lips, the smoothness of her skin against him as she twined her arms around his neck, the scent of sweet euphoria whenever he drew a breath. She was indeed perfect, and in this moment, she was all his.

And as they had for the past number of hours, they let their instincts take over once more.

* * *

The piercing light of dawn dragged Silas from his sleep. Forcing open his protesting eyelids, he let out a low groan as his brain slowly booted up. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that the bluish blur filling his vision was actually the Dxun sky. Then his memory kicked in, and he realized that not only was he not aboard the _Ebon Hawk_, but he also wasn't alone. He let his head fall to the side and smiled; sound asleep next to him was a white-haired goddess with whom he had shared a most invigorating evening. He watched her sleep for a few moments, trying to decide exactly how much more beautiful she looked when she was relaxed like this. There was no tenseness in her pose; lying on her side, one arm in front of her with her head resting on the soft fabric of her tunic's sleeve like a pillow was…_Wait a minute._ Silas' brow furrowed in confusion. _When did she...?_ He picked through his memories of the past night, all too sure that in his last vision of her, she was not wearing the white garment. Nor had he been in his own for that matter. He pulled himself into a sitting position, feeling grass blades needling him as he moved. That was enough conformation for him, but he looked around anyway and located his dark tunic a few meters away, exactly where he had left it. _So how..._

"I tried to remind you to dress, in case we were discovered," came a soft, amused voice. Silas turned back towards the sound, finding Brianna now awake, propped up on her elbows, and smiling at him. "But you had already fallen asleep."

Silas beamed back at her. "My dear, you left me completely drained of energy."

Her grin widened. "I only had my back turned to you for a second." She let out a light chuckle. "You didn't even flinch when I tried to wake you."

"I have been told I am a very deep sleeper," he said with a shrug. "Once, back in my days as a learner, I fell asleep during one of Vrook's meditation lessons. The way the others told the story, Vrook tried all the conventional means to rouse me, and since he had just finished lecturing us on the inappropriate use of the Force against another sentient, he was forced to wait until I woke myself up to discipline me for my 'disruptive conduct.'" Carver's grin twisted for a moment as he recalled the stern Jedi Master he had slain on Dantooine. "He never liked me. I had too many opinions for his liking, I think. Or maybe he simply did not approve of the way I breathed through my nose. Perhaps I flared my nostrils too aggressively-"

Brianna abruptly cut him off by turning his head towards her and pulled him into a kiss. After a several blissful seconds, she pulled back and smiled. "You were rambling. Now come on; we should get going before the others come out here looking for us, and you're still-"

"Ah yes," he said, getting up to retrieve his clothes. As he started pulling them on, he flashed another grin. "Though I have a feeling they are not that worried about us."

* * *

Carver's prediction was more accurate than even he thought it would be. Walking up the boarding ramp together, the pair found the others waiting for them in the main hold of the ship, save for the one Silas was mentally preparing for. They were doing a fairly decent job of busying themselves. Bao-Dur and Mira were having a casual conversation over cups of caf. About what, Carver couldn't hear, but his attention was quickly drawn to his apprentice. Jaq, interestingly enough, was sitting on the floor directly in front of Visas, letting the Miraluka weave a long white bandage down his injured right arm in a style similar to her eyewrap. She was almost finished, twining the last of the cloth just behind his wrist and securing it tight so it would not come undone. It was a wise decision for Jaq; the Miralukan weave was durable if done by skilled hands, Carver understood that much. And given the wounds he had inflicted on his apprentice, Jaq would need that bandage to last.

The injury occurred during a particularly grueling combat exercise four days before. Near the end of the session, Jaq's stance had faltered slightly, and his arm had slid out of place. It was an unusual mistake for him, and not one he was likely to make again. But just to make sure, instead of simply pointing out the flaw, Carver decided to take advantage of his apprentice's error. He terminated the exercise by powering through Jaq's defenses, then he ran his lightsaber up and down the length of Jaq's arm. The burns he received were severe, requiring immediate medical attention, and the scars left would be etched into his skin for several months, maybe even longer. But no one, not even Jaq, questioned the harshness of Carver's actions. He had already warned his apprentice of the consequences of making careless mistakes, and the damage had already been done. All Jaq could do was wait until his arm healed enough to handle the stresses of combat and resolve never to make that kind of error again.

Silas sent our a small ripple in the Force, immediately grabbing everyone's attention. "I am glad to see that everyone is enjoying their morning," he said, dropping smoothly into his general's persona, "but now it is time for some _real_ fun. Start hiking; the Mandalorians are waiting." He stood cold and motionless as his students rose and started towards him. He made eye contact with each of them, but his rigid stance let them know he was not to be addresses or acknowledged, simply passed. Which they did, much to his relief. However, although no words were exchanged, Carver did not miss the subtle glances his trainees were trying not to give him and the small grins they fought to suppress. Combined with the tickling sensation of amusement dominating the Force, Carver came to the inescapable conclusion that his students knew. How they knew and how much they knew was unclear, but he could certainly guess. He looked over at Brianna just as she looked at him. By the look of her, she was thinking the exact thing he was.

"I guess this means our secret is out," she said.

Carver let a sly smile creep onto his face. "Indeed, my dear. We have been caught pants down, as it were."

Brianna let out a quiet groan at Silas' unusually-juvenile jest, then smiled and shook her head. "Careful Silas; they might start thinking you are going soft."

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. "They would not dare," he said with a chuckle. "At the first sign of slacking, I will run them so ragged, they will not remember their own names."

Unfortunately, Carver's good mood did not last. It took him and Brianna only a few minutes to change into their training gear, and just as they were headed for the boarding ramp, Carver spotted Kreia standing in the main hold, apparently waiting for him. As much as he would have liked to simply ignore her and leave, doing so would have been a show of disrespect even he couldn't stomach. And this conversation was inevitable; there was no sense in putting it off. However, he was not going to be forced into a defensive position.

"Go on without me, my dear," he said to Brianna, gently pulling her into an embrace. "I will catch up in a moment." Before letting go, they shared one last kiss, one Carver made sure Kreia was watching.

Separating, Brianna tried not to look too concerned for Silas. She knew what was coming, the trial he was about to face. A part of her wanted to stay at his side and defend him against the coming onslaught, but as big a stake as she had in this, she knew she couldn't help him here. This just wasn't her fight. This was between Silas and Kreia; two massive forces of will were about to collide with each other, and she did not want to be crushed in the middle. Still, she took some measure of satisfaction in the knowledge that she would deal with Kreia in her own way later, when she had the advantage. "Good luck," she told him in her most confident voice.

As she started past him, Silas felt her finger slide down his arm in a final gesture of assurance; a smile tugged at his lips at the warmth of her touch. Then it was gone; she was gone. Immediately he felt a little colder, but he used that cold to focus himself. He had already made the first move; now all he could do was wait for Kreia to make hers.

* * *

All that had occurred weeks ago. Silas tried not to dwell on the memory of the argument he had with Kreia; it was a stain on an otherwise blissful moment in time for him. He could not remember the every word they had exchanged, but given the choice, he would have preferred to strike it from his memory completely. Not so much because he lost the argument, which he did not feel he had, but because over the course of their discussion, Kreia succeeded in shaking him and much of the trust he had in her. More than anything, he remembered how hard her words had stung.

Of course he had prepared his counterarguments long in advance; indeed, he had rehearsed their discussion in his mind many times that morning. He was ready when she questioned his judgment, called him impulsive and reckless, and even when she dared to say Brianna had become his weakness. The idea was beyond preposterous; he felt nothing but strength standing next to her. There was no way she would drag him down. Any enemy who though they could overtake her would be sadly mistaken. And when they fought together, no two warriors had ever been more perfectly synchronized in their movements. Kreia claimed that while he would be able to draw great strength from her, his feelings for Brianna would make him act irrational at a critical moment. He would make a mistake, then he, and perhaps the galaxy in turn, would suffer for it. Carver rejected her notion as mere hyperbole at best.

Then she called him a fool.

That had stung him the worst. To this day, the insult made his stomach turn. Kreia had never called him a fool before, and there was something in the way she said that word that made it seem like the most vile insult in the galaxy. Worse, even, than calling a Mandalorian a coward. Once, after their hasty exodus from Peragus, she called his choice to not hide from the Sith foolhardy, but that was as strong as she had ever been with him. Jaq, at the time still Atton, was the fool in her eyes, the eternal source of and target for her contempt. The very idea that she would make such a comparison to him was infuriating; he very nearly drew his lightsaber on her right then. But he reigned himself in, settling for a vicious sneer and a tightly-balled fist. His final declaration to her was clouded by his anger, but he recalled her last words very clearly.

"_We shall see."_

Then Kreia had turned and left, leaving him fuming in the main hold. After standing there just long enough to register her absence, he had wheeled around and marched off the ship, unsure if he would be able to calm down before reaching the Mandalorian camp.

Silas ran his hand over his face, silently cursing himself for losing his cool with Kreia. If anything, _that_ had been foolish. Replaying the argument over and over in his head, he came to the conclusion that his weakness wasn't Brianna, but his temper. And there was a very strong possibility he might have just given the key to that temper to the exact wrong person. It was an irritating thought; it made his eye twitch, and it seemed like the more he dwelled on this problem, the harder it became to find a solution. So with a resigned exhale, he willed his thoughts elsewhere. He needed a distraction, something to occupy his mind and thus preserve his sanity. And he knew the perfect one.

Silas reached over and picked out a datapad within a pile of them on the floor beside the hyperdrive. By touch alone, he could tell he had the one he was looking for. Unlike all the others, this datapad felt course. The corners were worn down, the sides were chipped, and a long scar ran down the half-rusted reverse side. Normally, he would never have bothered to keep a device in such a state of disrepair, but this was a special case. He thumbed the pad on; pale green text filled the cracked screen, flickering every so often around the edges. Indeed, the damage to the datapad was severe; it was a miracle that Bao-Dur had managed to restore its functionality, let alone recover even a fraction of the information it held. But that information was precisely the reason why he wanted the tech to fix it in the first place.

* * *

Barely week ago, his students were in the middle of a Mandalorian survival challenge. They had only a few bars of field rations, enough collective water for four days, a crude map of the area, whatever equipment they could carry, and a squad of Mandalorians, led by Carver, hunting them. Their objectives were simple: starting from the Mandalorian camp, his students, dubbed the raider team, had to find a fake weapons cache hidden deep in the jungle, detonate it, and make it back on board the _Ebon Hawk_ without being caught by Carver and the Mandalorians, the hunter team. All of them had to cross the finish line to win the challenge; if just one raider was caught, the whole team lost. They were given a fourteen hour head start and could use any non-lethal means to throw off or stall their pursuers. The hunters had one only objective: catch the raiders. There was a bonus for the hunters if they stopped the raiders before they blew the weapons cache, but failing that, they simply had to prevent them reaching their ship. To make the challenge a little more fair, Carver could not pinpoint his students with the Force until he received confirmation the site was destroyed, and all of the hunters had to be present when they captured the raiders to win.

It had taken the raiders six days to find the weapons cache. Six days of backtracking, setting stun mines, dodging jungle predators, rationing foodstuffs, erasing their trail, creating false ones, and flat out running. And although they had successfully distracted and diverted the hunter team over a dozen times, their lead time had been cut down to eight hours. After blowing the charges, the raiders decided to stick to the game trail that paralleled a shallow river in the hopes of simply outpacing the hunters without having to worry about running out of water as they made their southeastern dash to the finish line. Unfortunately, the river made a sharp turn north three days later, along with their trail. Refilling their canteens one more time, the team headed back the thick jungle and hoped they wouldn't be slowed down too much.

On the morning of the twelfth day, the challenge was put on hold when the raiders stumbled into a narrow clearing and came across an extraordinary find: the remains of a Republic _Genima_-class light dropship. Unlike most troop transports, _Genima_-class dropships were slender, agile craft specifically designed to quickly insert and retrieve small groups of soldiers deep in enemy territory. The vessels were too lightly armored to absorb heavy fire; instead they relied on their high speed and small cross-sections to slip through danger zones. Judging from the number of pieces scattered around the crash site, this _Genima_ was running at full throttle when it hit the ground, splitting in two as it bounced between Dxun's sturdy trees. The nose section of the craft was half-buried into the dirt, laying on its side with long gashes carved into the hull just behind the cockpit where the forward horizontal stabilizers used to be located. The tail section was battered, warped, and propped against a tree several meters in front of the nose. The port engine nacelle was little more than a tangled mass of metal hanging off the vertical stabilizer while the starboard nacelle was no where to be seen. Other pieces of the dropship, large and small, littered the forest floor, creating a debris field that likely radiated out over a hundred meters. Deciding this find was too significant to ignore, the raiders contacted the hunter team with an emergency comlink and reported their discovery.

Night had fallen by the time his team rendezvoused with his students; their preliminary report indicated there wasn't much left to salvage. As Zuka had pointed out when they first met, anything found on Dxun was, at best, already a decade old. Nevertheless, Kelborn set up a homing beacon and radioed the camp, advising them to bring a cargo skiff and high-powered plasma cutters.

It arrived early the next morning. Without even conducting their own assessment of the wreck, the Mandalorians immediately began slicing into the dropship's hull, carving it into pieces small enough to transport. Watching them dissect the vessel was like observing the forces of nature working in fast forward. Within two hours, they had reduced the entire nose section to stacks of 3x3 meter squares and kilometers of bound wiring. As the Mandalorians began stripping the tail section, Carver had his students split off and sweep the outer sections of the debris field.

* * *

Carver determined it was the will of the Force for this datapad to be in his hands right now. It wasn't luck; he didn't believe in luck. Luck wasn't enough to explain how this rusted, broken datapad was discovered by the one member of his crew who wouldn't immediately dismiss it, realize it could be fixed, and possessed the knowledge and skill necessary to fix it. So no, it couldn't have been luck. It was the Force; it was trying to tell him something. And Carver had a feeling that the message was a bit more obvious than he wanted it to be.

Scrolling through the list of entries, Carver found where he left off. The datapad turned out to be the journal of a soldier, a private Gavin Hochek, who had been fighting on Dxun since the initial invasion. In his previous entry, the private mentioned the Republic gearing up for their second offensive assault against the Mandalorian entrenchments. This next entry was recorded a few days later.

"_Day 6. Our unit is at half-strength and we haven't even advanced a kilometer. I thought the Little Push had been bad, but this...this is insane. Mandalorian minefields are everywhere; we lost 5 men to them just a few hours ago. Deacon was one of them. I still can't believe he's dead. One minute he's laughing about how crazy the Mandalorians are for wanting to fight here; the next, half of him is gone! And the other half…just thinking about it makes me sick. I don't know what I'm going to tell Eleeza if I ever make it out of here. How do you tell someone that their brother was vaporized right next to you? Why couldn't I have been assigned in a Jedi unit? I hear they've made at least some progress."_

The "progress" made by the Jedi units Hochek referred to was only a few extra meters. After the success of their first offensive, dubbed the "Little Push" for the relatively small gains made, the ground commanders were eager to keep advancing. It was their first major mistake of the Dxun campaign.

Carver remembered the expression on Revan's face as the man wished him good luck in his mission. He looked like he was already grieving for the losses they were about to take. And take losses they did. Every unit involved with that second push walked into a Mandalorian trap. The Republic lost control of the air within the first day of the mission when a network of AA sites went active, downing whole squadrons of fighters within minutes. Minefields and fortified emplacements slowed the forward progress of the Republic troops, and when they were finally forced to retreat, the Mandalorians hit them with a double envelopment. Out of all the soldiers that were involved in that mission, only a fifth of them made it out alive. The survivors coined that mission as the "Dead Push."

After the Dead Push, Revan and Malak assumed full direct control over the ground campaign, and their stratagems succeeded in slowly pushing back the Mandalorians. It was a brutal campaign; every meter gained cost the Republic more and more lives. And it didn't help that Revan-

A blinding white light burst through the darkness, ending Carver's tranquil musings. In an instant, his eyes were sealed tight with the datapad held protectively in front of them. He bared his teeth at the painfully-bright light and at the person who disturbed his solitude. Slowly his eyes adjusted and a figure began to appear in the doorway. But Carver didn't need to see the intruder to know who it was. There was only one person who would dare disturb him at this hour.

"I locked that door for a reason," he told the figure standing in the dimming light.

"It is time for us to leave," stated Kreia.

Carver cracked a half-grin; he was wondering when Kreia would bring this up. In truth, he had been expecting this for weeks now. "Really?"

"The future will not wait for us any longer," she replied in an unmistakably-prophetic tone. "We must move on or risk losing opportunities."

"Is that so?" Carver calmly set down the datapad and pushed himself off the hyperdrive. He took a breath and squared his shoulders; once again, he and Kreia were about to have a disagreement. "Unfortunately Kreia, the future _will_ have to wait. They are not ready, and I am not going to lead any more people into battle if I do not feel they are ready."

Carver saw Keira's mouth shrink and her head tilt up slightly, and he readied himself. "There is only so much they can learn from your training. Real experience is often the best teacher."

"You are not the first person to say that to me. Later on, I made those people write up the casualty lists."

"Are you saying you have no faith in your own students?"

Carver had to admit he walked into that one. "No, I am saying my training is much more forgiving."

Kreia smiled that smile he hated so much. "Ah," she said, "I see you have learned the lesson of Dxun well. But half of that lesson is knowing when to apply it."

Carver was about to bring their little chat to a close when he felt…something. He felt a little odd, somewhat warmer.

The roar of a thunderous explosion shattered the silence. He spun on his heels in the direction he heard it coming from, but saw only the wall. Then he heard a woman screaming to his left. Again he turned towards the sound, and again he found nothing. His heart started racing, and he felt himself getting dizzy. Then it hit him. He glanced over at Kreia; she was still just standing there motionless, but he knew better.

Silas pointed his finger at her. "You," he said, his consciousness fading. "Don't…you…"

* * *

The next thing Carver knew he was facedown in the dirt, doing his best to visualize in his mind the locations of every soldier near him. But with Mandalorian artillery going off all around him, his focus was being pushed to its limits. _This is insane._

"General!" came a woman's voice from just behind him.

Silas twisted his neck around to face the lady sergeant crawling up to him. He recognized her instantly and was not at all surprised that she had left the protection of her cover, in direct defiance of his orders. "Sergeant Ineva!" he said over the boom of another exploding shell.

"General, where is our air support?" she yelled.

His exasperated sigh went unheard; why, out of all possible questions, did she have to ask _that_ one. He knew the answer, and so did she. So he repeated what he had been told. "It'll be here."

Ansha Ineva just shook her head; she was only mildly disappointed by the lie. "Well, damn. What do we do now?"

There really wasn't much choice in the matter. "If we stay here, they'll have us zeroed in a matter of minutes. We have to move."

"On your command, General," she said with all the resolve she could muster. She crawled backwards a few meters and waited for his signal, silently praying to all the gods that this wasn't going to become another suicide mission.

to be continued...

Author's End Note- If you didn't think there was much forward plot movement, most of it comes in the second half. Among other things, as Carver and his crew leave Dxun, Colonel Tobin commits one final slight against them.

One more thing- I just want to give my thanks to those of you who, from time to time, checked in on my progress and let be bounce a few ideas off you. You guys really helped me out. I hope you, and all my readers, continue to enjoy my work


	13. The Jedi General

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, so quit asking me.

Author's Note: Guess who's back with another chapter? I guess I've made you guys wait long enough, so instead of boring you with details about why it's been so long since my last update, let's go right to the story, shall we? Enjoy.

Chapter 13: The Jedi General

Silas Carver, Jedi Knight and general of the Republic Army, sat eyes closed on a fallen log, doing his best to ignore the large quantity of water currently dumping on him. He didn't mind the rain. Some part of him, the part of him that was ignoring the facts that a war was going on and he and what was left of his company were far deeper behind the Mandalorian lines than anyone had ever been in this entire campaign, was actually finding peace in the non-artificially-created weather. But his attempt to achieve serenity was shattered by a wave of dour emotions coming towards him. Almost reluctantly, Silas opened his eyes and found that the rainy nocturnal jungle was about as black as the backs of his eyelids.

"You could at least try to hide your frustrations from me, Ansha," said Silas, casting a glance over towards his company's sergeant even before his eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness.

"I don't see the point," Ineva replied as she swung her rifle in front of her and sat down next to him. "Trying to lie to a Jedi."

Silas gave her a knowing grunt in agreement. "Would it make you feel any better if I told you I was also having some doubts about our mission?"

"No," she replied. "I'd rather not hear that our Jedi General doesn't believe we'll be able to pull this mission off." She paused and craned her head forward a little. "You do believe we'll pull this off, right?"

Silas looked beyond her at the group of soldiers a few meters away nestled among the cluster of sensor scramblers that kept them hidden from the Mandalorians. Half of them were sleeping, and the other half had their rifles up and trained on the line of trees ahead of them. They looked as sharp and deadly as the Mandalorians they were fighting, but Silas could see what lay under the surface. They were exhausted, and the company's moral was fragile. They had been running at top speed in full gear through thick jungle brush and Mandalorian minefields long enough for the mid afternoon sun to completely set. He ran a quick headcount, and the numbers made him sick. Eight men and three women, plus himself, the sergeant, and two more he sent out to scout the communications outpost they were about to destroy. Only fifteen of them had made it this far. Fifteen out of twenty-eight, and the hard part hadn't even started yet.

"Yes," said Silas with a small smile, actually believing his answer. Sergeant Ineva returned his grin, feeling somewhat better about their situation.

A soft rustling from the bushes drew everyone's attention. In an instant, every available rifle was pointed in the direction of the noise. Seconds later, the sleeping soldiers were up, alert, and ready for combat as well.

Silas could sense no hostiles in the immediate area, and his suspicions were confirmed when the comlink on his arm flashed three times. He tapped the blinking light twice and felt a collective exhale wash over the camp. His two scouts then emerged from the brush.

Sergeant Ineva waved the pair over and gave them a scolding look. "You're late."

"Sorry, ma'am," said Jaster Bollendi, moving to squat down on a nearby log. "We, uh, had a bit of trouble."

Ineva's eyebrows furrowed. "Were you seen?"

"No ma'am," Bollendi replied. Despite being only a few months older than twenty, he was already considered one of the stealthiest commandoes in the service, one of the reasons he volunteered for this crazy mission. "But we do have a problem."

"I knew we shouldn't have brought him," said Cyden Ward with a grin. "I told you, he's cursed."

Bollendi jabbed the smaller man in the shoulder. "Shut up." Ever since his days in the academy, Jaster Bollendi had become notorious for only ever bringing back bad news whenever he went out scouting. Despite the fact that other reconnaissance units were not faring any better in their missions, the reputation of "Bad News Bollendi" spread through the military with the speed of a gamma ray burst.

Fortunately for him, Sergeant Ineva was in no mood to indulge superstitions at the moment. "Both of you, focus," she ordered. "Now what's wrong?"

Ward removed the holoprojector from his pack and set it on the ground. He punched in his security code, and a blue, three-dimensional image flickered into existence. In the center of the projection was an outpost surrounded by high wall. Inside the wall were six buildings, four of which were topped with antennae arrays, and eight slender towers systematically dispersed throughout the camp. Immediately, the tops of the towers caught Silas and Ineva's notice; this was the problem Bollendi was referring to.

"What exactly am I looking at?" asked Invea, her tone suggesting that, once again, she already knew the answer.

"Long range SAM and flak cannons, ma'am," responded Bollendi. "This isn't a comms outpost; it's an AD station."

Ansha's nostrils flared as she digested the news. She turned to Silas, who seemed to be doing his best to keep quiet. "General, are we out of place?"

Silas gave her a subtle warning glance. "No, sergeant. These are the coordinates we were given."

Ansha caught the look but decided to ask anyway. "How could someone mistake a comms relay for an AD compound?"

"I don't know, sergeant," replied Silas with just a hint of disapproval in his voice. "Someone must not have been thinking."

Ineva turned back to the scouts. "You two go take a break," she told them.

"Ma'am, there is one more thing," said Bollendi.

"Of course there is," she said flatly.

Bollendi zoomed out from the outpost to reveal the entire clearing; dozens of blue oscillating circles filled the empty area between the trees and the walls.

"Mines," stated Ineva. "This just keeps getting better and better."

"You're dismissed," Silas told the two scouts. "Tell the others to be ready in two hours."

Bollendi and Ward saluted and trudged back towards the rest of the company.

When she was sure they were out of earshot, Ansha spun her head towards Silas. "Is there something you want to tell me, sir?"

Silas sighed. "Sergeant, I'm as surprised about this as you are, but I did have my suspicions." He began counting on his fingers. "Our lack of air cover; our vague extraction details." He paused for a moment. "For that matter, when I was first told about this mission."

Ansha's eyes widened. "So why did you-"

"Could _you_ turn down a request from Revan?"

"I guess not," said Ineva, deflating somewhat. She arched her eyebrow. "You still think we can pull this off?"

"We don't have a choice," Silas replied somberly. "Either that station goes down or we do."

Ansha let out a sigh and looked up. "I hate rain."

* * *

Private Marko Whilus had the best seat in the house to watch the eminent fireworks, he decided. He was perched high on a branch of a tree at the edge of the clearing, giving him both enough cover to remain hidden and an excellent vantage point for his Siretech Mark 16 sniper rifle. An Onderonian volunteer in the Republic Army, Whilus made a name for himself as an adept sharpshooter. It was in his blood. His family had a long history decorated snipers, some of whom had fought in the Beast Wars. Now it was his turn to be part of the family legend, and he was going to take out every Mandalorian that wandered into his sights. His job was to keep the Mandalorians pinned down as long as possible, no matter what. He shifted a bit to get comfortable, activated the night vision on his scope, and waited for the signal from General Carver. At least that bloody rain had stopped.

* * *

Silas Carver swept his gaze up and down the line of soldiers one more time, watching them double and triple check their weapons and gear. They were spread out about a meter apart from each other, arrayed, according to Bollendi, in such a way so they could avoid as many mines as possible as they approached the outpost. He could feel their emotions rolling off of them: their anxiety, their nervousness, their eagerness for action, and their desire to survive. Yes he did sense fear in them as well, but that was to be expected. Entering a battle against overwhelming odds would make any rational man afraid, but Silas knew his soldiers would not let their fears get the better of them, not when their survival was at stake.

"These are the last of mine, General," said Private Hartho, offering the Jedi four thermal detonators.

Silas shook his head. "Keep them, Hartho. You'll need them more than I will."

"Yes, sir," replied the young private, sounding a little relieved. He turned and headed back to his comrades.

"Remember," said Silas in a voice just loud enough to be heard, "once you get into the clearing, run for the wall as fast as you can. Don't take a step left or right unless you have to. Once you get to the wall, keep up the suppression fire until I can make you an opening. Then all we have to do is clean up the Mandalorians and call for our ride back to camp. Simple. Everyone ready?" In unison, they pounded their chests with their right fist. "All right then."

Silas moved in front of the line, passing between Sergeant Ineva and Specialist Ward. He gave Ansha one final assuring grin and nod, then moved to the very edge of the clearing. Plucking two thermal detonators from one of the pockets of the two bandoliers strapped around him, he drew all his focus towards the large structure ahead of them. One last sharp inhale, and he sent the explosives sailing into the night in quick succession, their speed and arcs enhanced with a burst of the Force.

* * *

A pair of explosions erupted in the heart of the Mandalorian compound, disintegrating or igniting everything they touched. Private Whilus would have let out a loud cheer had he not buried himself in the sights of his rifle at the first flash of light. There were a few precious seconds when the Mandalorians were too stunned by the sudden chaos to realize they were actually under attack, and in those seconds, Whilus had the perfect opportunity to strike. The searched through the crowd of Mandalorians, looking for the highest ranking one he could find and fired.

* * *

"Go! Go! Go!" yelled Silas. As one, the line of soldiers stormed into the clearing. Silas charged forward right along with them, hurling more and more detonators as he moved. Streams of blasterfire arced all around him. At first it was just his soldiers shooting, but quickly the Mandalorians began to retaliate. Explosions and cries of war and pain began ringing in his ears. Some a ways away; others too close for comfort. He tried not to get distracted by any of it; he just had to keep running like all the others. He trusted his Force senses to keep him alerted to mines that may be in his path, but for the others, only luck could save them. As the volume of fire coming at him increased, Silas abandoned his grenades for his double-bladed lightsaber. Thumbing the activation switch, a pair of blue beams extended from the emitters. He only had to beat back the occasional blaster shot at first, but the closer he got to the compound, the more enemy fire seemed to be directed at him. The answer why was obvious, and exactly as he intended. Draw away enough fire from his soldiers and more of them would make it to the wall. He hoped.

Traversing the clearing took about a half minute for Silas, yet even for a Jedi, thirty seconds can seem like forever. There were moments when it looked like, despite each step forward, the outpost was getting further and further away. When he finally did reach the wall, he wasted no time and launched himself up its face. As he cleared the durasteel obstruction, he came face-to-face with a blue-armored Mandalorian. Instinct took over, and he cleaved the warrior in two without a second thought. A red Mandalorian with a vibrosword charged for him, but he, too, was cut down. Not by Silas' bladestaff, but by a narrow blue energy beam knifing through his right pectoral. Turning to engage the next group of Mandalorians, Silas breathed a sigh; Whilus was still alive and giving the bucketheads hell.

Silas charged headlong into the battle, quickly overtaking a group of Mandalorians as they backpedaled away from him and began carving through them like a man possessed. His twin blades bisected legs, arms, torsos, heads, and everything else they touched. One Mandalorian with a jetpack tried to fly off but was cut in half just as he got off the ground. The barrage of blasterfire coming at him increased when the Mandalorians brought their heavy repeating rifles to bear, and it soon became too dangerous for Silas to remain so exposed on the high rampart. So he jumped down and moved quickly along the wall, dodging and deflecting volleys of blaster bolts as he ran. He finally stopped near the midpoint of the south wall and carved out a hole for his soldiers to come through, just as they had planned. He stayed in front as they emerged, protecting them from incoming fire in their few seconds of vulnerability. A quick tap on his shoulder told him when the last one was through and heading for cover. How many had made it Silas was not sure; he did not have time to do a headcount.

He gathered up a team of three, and together they began working their way back eastward along the perimeter wall. They gave him cover fire as he worked through the garrison of determined Mandalorians. At several points, Silas had to unleash massive blasts of Force waves just to keep them from being overwhelmed.

Then the Mandalorians started bringing out their bigger guns. Silas heard the distinctive whoosh of a rocket being fired. Half a second later, an area on the other side of the compound erupted in a ball of fire. Silas felt a pain in his chest, but he then turned that pain into resolve and pressed his attack. He heard the discharge of a rocket twice more before he finally located the source. But before he struck, the Mandalorian fired off a fourth missile high into the trees. Too late to stop it Silas realized it was headed right towards Whilus's location. So he settled for taking the head of the launcher-toting Mandalorian. The body hit the ground at the same time that his final warhead hit the trees. Large chunks of arboreal debris was thrown in every direction, a whole section of trees disappeared, and fires began to spread outward. Despite his mounting grief, Silas had no time to mourn the dead yet. He moved to engage a nearby yellow-armored Mandalorian who was carrying a massive heavy repeater; the warrior had just finished turning the area where his team of three had been into a melted heap of scrap metal and smoke.

* * *

By dawn, the fighting had finally ended. It had taken nearly two hours to eliminate the Mandalorians, and by the time they were finished, the compound was little more than a smoldering, walled-in ruin. There was no need to set demolition charges because the target buildings had caved-in and most of the AD towers had been fallen at some point during the battle. The two towers left standing Silas happily cut down himself. The rain returned with the sun, putting out the scattered fires. The survivors didn't seem to care they were getting drenched again. Also with first light came Silas' chance to do another head count. The final tally, including himself:

Four.

Just him, Jaster Bollendi, Private Reesa Hershaw, and Marko Whilus, who had managed to avoid the rocket by repelling off his perch when he saw the Mandalorian aiming at him. The explosion had blown him off his rope, so he fell the most of the way and broke several bones when he hit the ground. But Marko was lucky. A few days in a kolto tank and he would be back on his feet.

Sergeant Ansha Ineva and the ten other Republic soldiers were not nearly as lucky. The survivors found around half a number of bodies lying in the clearing. They could not be sure exactly how many had died in the field, though; not every body they found was intact. Some of the remains were merely pieces or limbs. Silas did find Ansha's body. She had made it halfway across the minefield when she was cut down by a spray of Mandalorian blasterfire. His stomach had threatened to turn at the sight of her ruined body, but despite his urge to retch, he had picked up her body and carried it back to their extraction point in the heart of the former Mandalorian Air Defense Outpost 17-B.

Needless to say, Silas Carver was exhausted, and not just physically. He strode wearily through the debris as he waited for Hershaw to return with the long-range com. He easily spotted Jaster Bollendi not too far away; he had found and was stooped over the charred, broken, and bloody corpse of Cyden Ward, his closest friend from the academy and a casualty of a Mandalorian thermal detonator. Silas quietly walked up to the younger man, and rested his hand on Jaster's shaking shoulder. He didn't get a response beyond an occasional quiet sob or sniff, and Silas couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make the moment worse, so reluctantly, after about a minute, he left Jaster to mourn his loss. But in some twisted way, Jaster was also lucky. He managed to find Cyden's body. Most who had died inside the compound were buried under piles of metal. At least Jaster had a chance to say good-bye to his old friend.

Twenty-four dead in total. Twenty-four. Twenty-four of his soldiers were dead in as many hours. The number tore Silas to the core. Despite the fact that hundreds had already died on this moon over the past couple of months, that these twenty-four were now gone hurt him the most. Not even reciting the Jedi Code helped him. The words rang hollow this morning. _"There is no death," _he thought. _There most certainly is. And I'm standing in the middle of it._ All his life, Silas had been taught to keep his emotions in check and to remain detached and objective, but how was it possible to remain detached when you hold so many lives in your hands? How is it possible to not mourn when someone, or a group of people, who once stood beside you for months as a brother or sister in arms is suddenly snuffed out of existence? The contradictions were swirling in his mind. Lessons so easily learned when he was young were unraveling even as he stood there atop a pile of rubble that may or may not have had a body under it. But there was one thing that was clear. _This should never have happened._ The more that thought appeared in his mind, the more unsettled he became, and the more frustrated he became. There was only one reason he could come up with to explain why the last twenty-four hours had transpired the way the had, and by the time the gunship arrived to pick them up, Silas Carver was, for the first time in a _long_ time, angry.

* * *

Which turned out to be nothing compared to the downright seething fury he felt when he landed at the Republic base. He stormed off the transport and headed straight for the Operations HQ. There had never been a time in his life when Silas had ever felt this livid before, nor a time when he felt anger was justified, but there is always a first time. The two Republic soldiers guarding the entrance began to move to block him, but thought better of it when they sensed wrath about to fall on them. The doors to the building slid open, and Silas immediately found his target: a tall, well-defined man with short, jet-black hair wearing a black Jedi robe standing behind a floating holomap of an area of Dxun. He seemed too busy organizing his next series of operations to notice the waves of anger coming from the Jedi general he had just sent on a suicide mission a day ago. But the half-dozen, high-ranking Republic officers and taller, bald Jedi behind him certainly did. His temper getting the best of him, Silas Carver could not stop himself.

"Revan, you lying Huttspawn!"

Malak and the officers in the room jumped in surprise and stood with mouths agape. Revan, on the other hand, remained cool and calm. He looked at Silas and gave him a small knowing grin that looked tinged with trace of humor.

"General Carver!" shouted Malak, taking a few steps toward Silas. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

Revan casually held up his hand to block Malak. "Gentlemen," he said in a smooth voice, "you'll have to excuse us for a moment." Malak looked dumbstruck, but obediently, he and the officers slowly filed out of the room, in the opposite direction. Revan watched them leave, then turned back to Silas. Cool brown eyes met hostile brown eyes, and in that moment Silas' anger ebbed just enough for him to regain control of himself. For a long minute they just stood there in silence.

"Well?" inquired Revan finally, not sounding at all concerned over the state of his general. Just calm and authoritative, as always. "You just called me a lying Huttspawn. I assume you've got more to say."

Silas finally unlocked his jaw. "You lied to us."

Revan just nodded. "Yes, you've already established that. Is there something else?"

"Twenty-four," said Silas with just a small catch in his voice. "Twenty-four men died last night because you lied to them."

"And how many survived?"

"Three." Silas coated the answer with a bit more venom than he planned to, but it did make Revan pause and close his eyes for a moment.

"So you succeeded," he said softly. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that."

"You _what_?"

Revan's tone regained its authority. "Silas, what you just accomplished could help turn the tide of this campaign. Now that there's a hole in the Mandalorian's air defense network, we-"

"There wasn't supposed to be an Air Defense station there!" Silas blurted out. "You said we were after a small relay station! A small station, not a fully-garrisoned Mandalorian compound. I would never have agreed to this mission if you had-" Revan suddenly cut him off.

"And just how many would have volunteered had I told you your real target," he asked, crossing his arms, "what you were really going up against?" The answer was obvious, of course, but Silas found himself unable to answer. He never liked baited questions. But Revan could see Silas' answer clearly written in his expression. "Exactly," he continued, pointing a finger at Silas. "Had I told you the truth, there never would have been a mission. And it was too important to not undertake."

Silas didn't want to believe what Revan was saying. "I think you underestimate your soldiers, Revan."

"I wish I was," Revan replied, deftly shrugging off the remark. "But so soon after the Dead Push, they needed a victory, even a small, costly one. Watch; they'll rally behind it when word gets around."

Silas couldn't believe what he was hearing. Revan's logic sounded impossibly insane "Is that how you choose to justify your actions?"

Revan's expression changed again. His face seemed to soften, but the look in his eyes hardened. "Let me show you something, Silas," he said. Then he gestured next to him. "Stand over here, and see what your actions have accomplished." Silas approached cautiously, not taking his eyes off Revan as the black-robed Jedi began punching in commands on the console's keyboard. When the two Jedi were side-by-side, Revan held his hand up to the holomap. "Do you know what this is?"

"The Dxun theater of war," replied Silas without even looking.

"Good," said Revan, inputting more commands. Within moments, a large amorphous rectangle appeared on the map, covering roughly ninety percent of the display. "This," Revan explained, "is the Mandalorian Air Defense network. This red area is a death zone for anything that flies over 300 meters, and it's part of the reason why we're losing this war. We think there are at least forty such stations, each covering their own piece of the sky. Some zones even overlap. But," he paused long enough to enter a third set of commands, "as of this morning, this is what their network looks like." A dent appeared on the south end of the red area. Not a large dent, but as it receded, it took on an hourglass shape with most of the blank area north of its narrowest point. "That spot," continued Revan, pointing at the narrow corridor, "is a kilometer wide, but it's a lightyear for what it means to us."

"How do you know it's even there?" asked Silas.

Revan actually grinned. "Because your evac shuttle went through it at 600 meters. We have our opening, Silas."

"The Mandalorians will just reclaim that area," said Silas.

"No," Revan stated. "They won't. We're going to stuff that area so full of aircraft and surveillance drones, the Mandalorians won't be able to take a step into it without being killed. Then we fortify the northern region with a secondary staging point, complete with firebases and artillery."

Silas gave Revan an arched eyebrow. "Then what?"

"Then we start pushing the Mandalorians back," Revan answered with a slightly-amused tone, "using the tactics similar to yours in that last mission."

Silas' temper flared. "More suicide missions?"

Revan gave him a harsh look. "You call them suicide; I call them strategic. And we don't have a choice, Silas. We can't afford another large-scale offensive."

"So instead of throwing our soldiers' lives away in large groups, you're doing it in small groups."

"I would rather lose twenty-four men in a mission than twenty-four hundred men who are after the same objective."

"Ah. So this is just a numbers game for you, then?"

"This is not a _game_, Silas!" shouted Revan, slamming his fist on the console. "The Mandalorians are not going to just roll over and let us win. They are going to fight us for every centimeter, and we are going to take losses; that is a fact! I know it! I've _seen_ it!" Revan paused and took a deep breath to regain control of himself. "This is the way it has to be," he said in a resolute tone. "If we try to launch a major offensive right now, we will fail as surely as we did the last time. The Mandalorians have the advantage of number and position, but if they lose either, we can gain the advantage. We can't beat them with numbers right now, so we have to take ground from them."

Silas opened his mouth to speak, but Revan already had the answer.

"No, I'm not a fool, Silas. I know these missions won't be successful every time, but it's the best we've got right now. We're going to lose soldiers every time we move to engage the Mandalorians, it's a sad fact, but I can guarantee you, our soldiers would rather die doing something meaningful than in some fool's charge." Revan looked over at his general. "And I need you. You and every other Jedi here to help me pull this off."

Silas' eyes narrowed. "And what makes you so sure I'm even going to be here, Revan?"

Revan turned towards the holomap. "You could leave. You could walk out right now, and I wouldn't blame you. But if you do, everything we've done, every life lost so far, will have been for nothing. So I know you won't leave; you're too devoted to our cause to leave. But what you need to understand is so am I. I take my part in this war very seriously, and I'm not talking about just Dxun. I mean the whole war. We're not going to win it all at Dxun; this moon is just a part of the war. There are going to be many more battles after this, Silas, many more campaigns. It could take years to end this conflict." He paused to look back at Silas. "But what happens here, right here, will impact the course of the war; I can feel it. That's why I can't let us lose. And that's why I need your help."

Silas took several moment to absorb everything that Revan had said and found that he man was, as always, right. Admittingly, it shook him a little when he realized just how far ahead Revan was thinking and how easily Revan had addressed his doubts. So, with a sigh, he placed his fate in Revan's hands. "All right, Revan," he said, "you win; I'll stay. But let me make one thing perfectly clear," he added, giving Revan a hard stare. "If you _ever_ lie to me like that again, I'll leave, and I'll take every soldier with me that is more loyal to me than to you. I won't let you treat their lives like toys. Understand?"

Revan took the threat a lot easier than Silas thought he would. "I do. And are you willing to trust and follow me until that day comes?" he asked.

"…Yes," replied Silas. "Though I hope it never does."

Revan smiled. "Then it won't." He extended his hand, and Silas hesitated only a moment to shake it. As Silas turned to leave, Revan had one last thing to say. "I am sorry for your losses, Silas. It's never easy. Especially for someone like you. If you'd rather I wrote their families-"

"No," replied Silas. "I'll write them myself. I owe them that much." With that, he walked out of the building, leaving Revan to plan his next moves.

Outside, he spotted Malak talking with a few officers not too far away. The bald Jedi was giving him a sideways glance tinted with suspicion while one of the officers rattled on about something Silas couldn't hear. Silas broke the stare between them and headed for the Hammerhead Cruiser serving as his division's HQ. He didn't care what Malak may or may not think of him, but something inside him told him there was going to be trouble between them in the future. Silas pushed the thoughts out of his mind; right now, all he wanted right now was a moment of peace, some rest, and, despite all the rain, a shower.

As he approached the ship, he heard someone shouting his name behind him. Looking around, he spotted a figure he could not discern running towards him and waving his hand in the air.

"Silas!"

Silas' brow furrowed. Why was the man using his first name?

"Silas!"

And why did no one else seem to notice there was someone was running through the base camp shouting?

"_Silas!_"

Just before he had a chance to make out the face, a pain flashed in his head. He closed his eyes and touched his fingers to his temple.

"_Sy!"

* * *

_

Silas Carver's eyes slid open, finding himself not standing in a Republic camp, but on his back in a faintly-lit room. A familiar humming told him he was in an engine room, and slowly he came back to reality.

"Sy, you all right" came the voice again. This time, he could identify the speaker.

"Yes, Jaq," said Silas, looking over at his apprentice standing next him. Jaq wasn't alone. Brianna was with him, kneeling veside to his head, and they were both looking at him with concern on their faces. "Perfectly fine," he added. "What are you two doing in here?" The last time he checked, the door had been locked.

"We were worried about you," said Brianna, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Worried?" he repeated.

"Sy, do you even know what time it is?" asked Jaq.

Silas shook his head, but it couldn't be that late.

"It's 1040," said Brianna.

That got Silas' attention; it wasn't like him to oversleep. "What?" he asked, he pulled himself into a sitting position.

Jaq nodded. "What happened to you last night?" he asked.

Silas started to speak, but found his memory of the previous evening hazy. That, alone, bothered him; his memory was too sharp to simply forget such a large chunk of time. "Nothing," he answered finally, hoping it would satisfy his present company. "Nothing happened. Perhaps I simply ran myself ragged yesterday."

"Well, you're up now," said Jaq, extending his hand for Silas. It caught Silas somewhat by surprise. He needed no assistance to get to his feet. Then it hit him: Jaq was offering his bandaged hand, the one Silas had injured several days ago. His apprentice was trying to make a point. _Very well, Jaq._ Silas took the hand and let himself be pulled up. "What's on the docket for today? Another jog around the moon?"

"No," said Silas. "Today we leave." Even as he spoke them, something in him was saying those words were not his own.

to be continued...


	14. Exodus

Disclaimer: I've run out of witty remarks and ways to say I don't own Star Wars.

Chapter 14: Exodus

-1130 Dxun local time-

Silas Carver ran his hands over his face and through his short dark hair as he casually worked his way towards the _Ebon Hawk_'s boarding ramp. Despite his better judgment, he was deciding to follow through with his earlier impulsive declaration to leave Dxun. He knew they would have to depart sooner or later, and Jaq and Brianna had already spread the news to the others. Silas couldn't blame them for being eager to leave; Dxun had not been a vacation for any of them. Getting off this moon would be welcome relief. So it seemed their course was set.

And yet, Silas seemed unable to put his mind at ease. The gap in his memory disturbed him. It felt like Peragus all over again, only worse this time. His hand continued to massage his scalp as he struggled to recall the previous evening. He remembered reading the entry in the scratched datapad, and he certainly remembered his dream, but between the two, everything was blank. A lesser man would have thought he had simply fallen asleep, but Silas knew himself too well. Something had happened to him last night to cause him to end up on the floor. It was almost as if…as if…as if someone had…

His thoughts suddenly faded away, evaporated from his mind, and Silas stopped dead in his tracks. He may have forgotten his train of thought, but in that moment he made a dangerous realization. Someone had tampered with his mind. It was the only explanation for why he lost his thoughts so completely. A subtle eye twitch betrayed his flaring temper as he started for the boarding ramp again. Surely there wasn't anyone that strong on his ship, aside from him of course. Jaq wouldn't dare try to alter his master's mind, and Brianna had no reason to. Not even Visas that that kind of power, and as for Kreia, he distinctly remembered that she…was…something. He could feel the memory receding again, and he fought to keep it in the forefront of his mind. There was something about Kreia he was supposed to remember. Last night, Kreia was…she was…

Silas' thoughts vanished again, and he banged his fist against the wall in frustration. Then after a few moments, he calmed down and descended the boarding ramp, choosing to set aside whatever it was that had been bothering him and focus on more important issues. There were a few loose ends to tie up before he left.

Silas reached the base of the ramp without being noticed, but instead of drawing everyone's attention, he simply took in the scene before him. His students had broken into three groups. Visas stood behind Bao-Dur as the kneeling tech performed maintenance on T3 under the _Ebon Hawk_'s starboard cannons. Silas could see her lips moving, but he could not make out anything she was saying. He cocked his brow and canted his head slightly. Those two seemed to be spending more and more time together. He would have to keep an eye on them.

Out in the middle of the clearing, Brianna, Mira, and Kelborn surrounded a blue-armored Mandalorian who seemed to be doing most of his talking with his hands. Even with a helmet on, Silas recognized Davrel and his energetic youthfulness, although today he seemed even more excited than usual. Carver almost smiled at the sheer amount of joy radiating from the kid, almost.

Closest to him and standing by the cockpit were Jaq, Mandalore, and HK. The assassin droid was hanging back and watching the two men interact, and judging by the subtle nuances of their stances, like Jaq's loose almost-balled fists, Mandalore's planted feet, and both of them slightly inclined towards each other, their conversation was less than jovial. _Jaq always knows how to make a new friend,_ Carver thought with a grin. As he approached, HK noticed him first and started towards him.

"Greeting: Good morning, Master," said HK in a tone that was rare for the droid. He actually sounded happy. "My circuits are abuzz to learn we are finally leaving this organic dung heap of a moon."

Carver chuckled softly and looked past the assassin droid. "What is going on between those two?"

HK swiveled to look behind him for a moment, then turned back towards his master. "Answer: The Mandalorian is under the impression that he is welcome to remain with us for the duration of our mission, Master. Your apprentice is delivering a rather eloquent rebuttal, for a meatbag of course."

Carver cocked his head slightly. "Is that so?"

"Affirmation: Indeed, Master. They have been engaged in verbal combat for several minutes now. If we are patient, I have no doubt it will become physical at any moment."

Carver closed his eyes and sighed. "I suppose I should stop them."

"Suggestion: Master, if you truly wish to stop their arguing, I would advise allowing me to blast them both right now." Carver have HK a hard stare, but the droid persisted onward. "Explanation: I have studied your apprentice for a long time, Master, and have come to the conclusion that there will be many more such disagreements from him in the future. And the Mandalorian has as well become a source of irritation for your underlings. Allowing me to shoot them would no doubt spare our audio receptors hours of incessant whining."

"No, HK," Carver replied gently. "They are merely frustrated by how ruthless Mandalore was during training. Underneath that frustration, however, is respect, even if they do not show it. And Jaq's fierceness is something I have endeavored to cultivate. His mind is exactly where I want it to be, and his focus is exactly where he needs it to be. Go back and review your archives, HK, and pay attention to more than just the decibels."

"As you wish, Master," replied HK, sounding a little let down. "Cautionary: I feel the need to remind you that, based on my experiences, having an apprentice can be detrimental to your health, Master. They are notoriously treacherous."

"Yes, HK," said Carver, "we have been through this before. And as I have said, if I ever feel that Jaq has become too dangerous to be kept alive, you will be the first to know."

"Statement: I eagerly anticipate your command then, Master." The droid then headed for the boarding ramp.

Carver turned his head to watch HK disappear out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes it was impossible to not be wary of the assassin droid, despite his unshakeable loyalty. HK was resourceful, intelligent, and had an uncanny ability to interpret his orders in the way that best suited him. It wasn't that Carver wanted HK to be more obedient or tightly-controlled; he just wished the droid would invest his focus and energy into something more productive than the phantom assassination plots of his own students.

Carver turned back and walked towards Jaq and Mandalore, who were still engaged in their friendly back-and-forth. He stood patiently for a moment, watching and listening as he waited for a chance to insert himself into their discussion.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" he asked finally in his general's voice. Instantly both men looked over at him. He saw Jaq start to speak, but Mandalore was a quarter-second faster.

"Your kath hound doesn't like me," he said, pointing a thumb at Jaq. Carver was always surprised at how casual and nonchalant Mandalorians could sound when insulting someone. "I think he smells _Prud'ika_ on my armor."

Carver saw Jaq bristle, though whether he did so because of the insult or because Mandalore mentioned his pet strill Carver could not tell.

"And that's another thing," said Jaq. "There's no way in hell I'm letting that thing on my ship."

"It's not your ship," said Mandalore, "and besides, your master doesn't seem to have a problem with keeping pets on board."

Although Carver could understand Jaq's mounting frustration towards the clan leader, he watched his apprentice squeeze his fists and growl and decided Jaq was not convincing Mandalore to back down…

"Down boy," said an amused Mandalore.

…At all. It was time to intervene.

"Why is it you wish to join us, Mandalore?" Carver asked. "I cannot imagine that you have suddenly developed a deep sense of altruism."

"I haven't," replied Mandalore. "I'm coming for security reasons."

Carver cocked his brow for a moment. "Security? Not for my people, I take it."

Mandalore shook his head. "This civil war we've been dragged into could expose us to the Republic. I'm coming to make sure that doesn't happen."

Carver could not quite follow Mandalore's logic. The Mandalorians on Dxun was a secret known only to the people in the highest echelons of the government. It kept the general public from panicking. "I do not see how your coming with us would prevent Talia from alerting the Republic of your-"

"The Onderonians are too afraid of us to do something like that," said Mandalore. "They're not going to risk inciting _another_ Mandalorian invasion."

"Then what is your concern?"

"My concern is Tobin." A part of Carver was not surprised by Mandalore's answer. "When the war starts, the first thing Vaklu is going to do is shut down Onderon's interstellar communications to keep Talia from calling the Republic for help. If you're offplanet when he does, the only way he can reach you is by contacting my people."

Carver nodded in understanding. "And the only way for you to reach us is by sending out your own hyperspace transmission."

"One without Mandalorian encryptions," added Mandalore. "You see the problem."

"Why not simply provide us with the necessary encryption keys?"

"Oh, I plan to, and that's why I'm coming: to keep those codes safe."

"Are you certain that is necessary?" asked Silas.

"It's not that I don't trust you," said Mandalore," but you're still _aruetiise_, non-Mandalorians, and the Republic knows your ship. I'm not going to let this kind of equipment out of my sight while you go flying around the galaxy."

"We're going to Korriban," said Jaq. "I doubt you'll have to worry about us running into the Republic there."

"Always expect the unexpected," said Mandalore. "You never know how, when, or why a plan will fall apart, but it usually does."

"And at the worst possible moment," said Carver. "I understand." He gave Jaq a sideways glance and was about to dismiss him when it occurred to him that, out of all the others, his apprentice was the only one who could truly appreciate what he was about to say. "There is one last thing, Mandalore," he said in a low voice, returning his gaze to the clan leader. "I know what she said to you, what she promised you, and what she asked you to do. And you know how I know. Understand this: I do not care about Kreia's agenda, nor do I intend to serve as a pawn in it. If there is any part of you that wants to come with us because of something she told or offered you, then you are better off remaining here with your clan. The last thing I want is another person on my ship with divided loyalties."

Mandalore did not miss a beat. "If you think I can be pushed around so easily by that old witch, then you don't know Mandalorians as well as you think you do."

Carver was silent as he studied the man in front of him, searching for any clues that would either confirm or contradict what he just said. After a few seconds, he smiled. "That is all I needed to know."

"Well," said Jaq. "we're leaving in three hours, so if you're not here-"

"You'll wait," said Mandalore. "If you want those encryption keys." Movement caught his eye, and he looked past Carver and Jaq. "Looks like we've got incoming."

Turning around, Carver spotted Davrel running towards them and waving his hand in the air; the boy had not lost an ounce of his energy.

"Lord Carver! Lord Carver! I did it!" Davrel yelled as he closed in.

Silas smiled at the name "Lord Carver." It started as a Mandalorian joke of sorts. They knew he was not a Jedi or a Sith, but he was respected. It was Azgen who started it, and the name more or less stuck long after it ceased to be incredibly funny. A few of the younger Mandalorians however, like Davrel, took the moniker a bit more seriously, especially as Carver's reputation grew.

The blue Mandalorian took Carver's grin to mean he could continue. "I did it! I won in the battle circle!"

"Excellent, Davrel," said Carver, finding himself suddenly willing to entertain the young man's excitement. "Who did you defeat?"

Davrel chuckled before answering, "Kex."

Carver heard Mandalore start laughing, and he chuckled himself. The quartermaster's pride was easily damaged, and not so easily healed. He was sour for days after Brianna floored him in the battle circle. Losing to Davrel was bound to be even worse for the old veteran. "Congratulations, young _Mando_. Your victory was well-earned."

"I have a skilled teacher," replied Davrel.

Carver nodded in agreement. His love possessed many talents.

"I heard you were leaving today," Davrel continued. "I was wondering if I could go with you. So I can continue my training."

For a moment Carver considered letting the young man join them. At a minimum, Davrel was another pair of eyes with a blaster, and with Brianna teaching him, he would soon become a formidable fighter. But beyond that, Davrel could be swayed. The boy already thought highly of Carver, and it was clear to Carver that Davrel was more excited by the prospect of journeying across the galaxy than the chance for more training. In time, Carver might be able to use that adventuring spirit to convince the boy to become a permanent member of his crew. Even if Davrel had no Force powers, having a skilled and loyal Mandalorian fighting with you was a close second. Unfortunately, the decision was taken out of Carver's hands.

"Sorry, _Dav'ika_," said Mandalore, "but no. You will remain here on Dxun. Kelborn has agreed to help you in your combat training."

"Yeah," said Kelborn coming up behind Davrel, "there's been some concern you're starting to fight more like an Echani than a Mandalorian. I'm here to correct that."

Davrel turned to face Kelborn, and Carver sensed a curious mix of humility and amusement coming from him. "With respect, Kelborn, Brianna did beat you in the Battle Circle. Maybe I should be fighting like an Echani."

Kelborn cleared his throat. "Well, I may have…gone easy on her in the Circle. _Aruetiise_ women are more fragile than their _Mando_ counterparts."

"Oh really?" came the voice of Mira. Kelborn flinched at the sudden outbrust then turned around. Behind him stood Mira and Brianna, hands on their hips and giving the Mandalorian a cold stare. It was the more intimidating sight Carver ever beheld. And yet, he could not help but smile at it.

As Kelborn struggled to find the right words, Brianna and Mira looked at each other.

"Did you hear what he called us?" Mira asked with a wicked grin.

"Indeed I did," replied Brianna. "'Fragile.' Perhaps we should show him just how 'fragile' we are."

Kelborn took an instinctive step backward and put up his hands. "Now ladies, I didn't mean to-"

"Oh, we know exactly what you mean," said Mira as she and Brianna took a step forward.

Carver, Jaq, Mandalore, and Davrel smartly took a step out of the way, leaving the backpedaling Kelborn to his fate. However, instead of watching the eminent display of wrath as Mandalore and Davrel intended to, Carver and Jaq turned and headed for the _Ebon Hawk_'s boarding ramp.

Jaq gave Carver a cautious sideways glance. "So you think she's got her claws in him too?" he asked in a quiet tone.

Carver exhaled and closed his eyes for a moment. "I do not know," he answered. "I would not be surprised to learn that everyone on my ship is being influenced by her…including me."

Jaq did a take at Carver's admission, causing him to make a small misstep as he ascended the ramp. "You? What makes you think she's gotten to you?"

As Carver thought about it, a subtle pressure began growing in his mind. "Call it a hunch."

* * *

A foul stench filled Jaq's nostrils as he relaxed in the cockpit, feet on the consol and reclining the pilot chair as far back as it would go. He was waiting for Silas to give him the order to take off so they could finally leave this blasted moon. A part of him held on to the hope they would leave before Mandalore arrived, but he knew that was unlikely. His hopes were dashed completely when he caught a whiff of that noxious odor. It smelled like decomposing fish meat that had been splashed with sour blue milk and left to bake in the Dune Sea. Jaq's hand flew to his face as he jumped to his feet, preventing himself from inhaling any more of the offending fumes, but when he opened his mouth to breathe he swore he could taste it.

Jaq marched out of the cockpit reciting a list of profanities as fast as he could speak them, voice muffled by the hand still covering his face. When he entered the main hold, he was met with a scene that was not unsurprising. Brianna was standing next to Silas as he and Mandalore went over some last minute business. Mandalore seemed to be talking to both Silas and someone on the other end of his armor's internal comlink. In the Mandalorian's hand was a medium-sized black duffel which, Jaq guessed, was more full of weapons and weapon components than actual daily necessities, if not completely filled with weapons and weapon components. Everyone else was in the main hold also; everyone but Kreia, but that was not really a surprise. Kreia only came out of her "chambers" when it suited her agenda, and Jaq took relief in that fact. The less he saw of her, the better.

Aside from Silas and Brianna, everyone in that room had two things in common: they were all quiet, and they were very aware of the vile odor filling the room. Jaq easily followed the collective eye lines and located the source of the smell. And there it was: a brown-haired animal about the size of a grown kath hound that looked like it had an excess of flesh hanging off it, especially around its six legs. It was by far the ugliest hexapod Jaq had ever seen in the galaxy, and it was just sitting there obediently next to its master, long tail wagging back and forth vigorously, oblivious to the obscene amount of drool seeping from its wide, fanged maw and pooling on the floor. And it stunk worse than a Hutt's backside. While Jaq knew little about strills, he was sure of one thing: he did not like them, especially ones trained to attack on command. The feeling seemed to be shared by the others in the room as well, even if they were trying to keep it hidden. Of all of them though, it was Mira who seemed to be in control of herself the most. There was even a slight air of satisfaction about her in the way she had her arms crossed in front of her.

Jaq let his hand drop from his face; it was better to suffer the smell than to be perceived as acting immature…again. To his credit, he had to fight the urge to gag only once as he quietly eased over towards Mira.

"How can you stand that smell?" Jaq asked her in a low tone.

"When you live as long as I did on Nar Shaddaa," Mira replied, "you get used to all the unique odors the galaxy has to offer. And you invest in a pair of olfactory blockers," she added with two taps to her nose.

At that moment, T3-M4 came rolling into the room, heading for Silas, Brianna, and Mandalore.

"So what's going on here?" Jaq asked.

"They're trying to get our comm system to accept Mandalorian software so we can-"

"Tune in to Mandalorian frequencies, I get that part. But don't they need to be at the comms station to do it?"

"I think they're letting the droid do most of the work, but between you and me, I think Mandalore knows a bit more about this ship than he should."

Jaq cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Mira's eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't know. Just the way he's always looking around when he comes on board. But he's not inspecting or casing, just looking. It's like someone walks into your house and knows exactly where to find the 'fresher. It's just odd somehow."

"Never really had a house, but yeah, I get what you're saying." Jaq rubbed his chin with his thumb.

Mandalore gently eased a small chip into T3's "head," and the little droid wheeled around which, for one reason or another, attracted the strill's attention. The creature walked over to the astromech and gave it a few investigatory sniffs. T3 took the inspection in stride mostly, whistling softly as the strill moved in front of it. The strill stood motionless for a moment, its head cocked and tail swinging idly back and forth as it seemed to consider the droid in front of it. Then, without any warning at all, the strill bit down on T3's head. Not heavily, but enough to warrant a shriek from the droid. As the strill began to gnaw on him, T3 deployed his shock probe and delivered a charge to the animal's nose. The strill relinquished its grip with a yelp and immediately retreated back towards its master, giving the droid a soft growl. T3 promptly rolled away, whistling raspberry as he headed for the comms station.

Jaq chuckled as he watched the astromech glide past him. "Not bad for a rolling footstool." He looked back to see Mandalore giving the strill a few tender loving pets on the head, and the animal seemed to be relishing the affection; it was drooling again.

"_Udesi, Prud'ika. Udesi,_" Mandalore said gently. "Always have to learn things the hard way, don't you?"

"It's a young one, isn't it?" asked Carver.

"For a strill, yes. _Prud'ika_ hasn't matured yet, but it's already seen more years than your average kath hound will."

Jaq's eyes narrowed slightly; Mandalore's insult from earlier still rang in his ears. He knew Mandalore was not referring to him this time around, but the words still got to him somehow.

"What is with you?" asked Mira. "It's like you're at odds with everyone on this ship."

"Stay out of my head," warned Jaq.

"I don't need to get in your head to see what's written on your face," Mira replied. "Not that I care or anything, I'm just curious why Carver and the Zabrak are the only ones who you seem to stand around here."

Jaq rolled his eyes. "I owe Sy my life, and Bao-Dur keeps mostly to himself. And neither of them have criticized my flying."

Mira chuckled and shook her head. "You flyboys have such thin skins."

"We do, huh? Have you every tried flying through an asteroid field of explosive rocks with a half-dead Sith Lord halfway up your-"

"Jaq," came Silas' voice. The pilot immediately looked away from Mira. "Fire up the engines. It is time to leave."

"Finally," said Jaq. He gave Mira one last glance and smiled, a half-genuine, half-sarcastic one. She returned the grin perfectly.

As he walked past the comms station, he spotted T3 jacked into the system. "Way to go little guy," he said to the droid, giving him a thumbs-up. T3 responded with a series of beeps that told Jaq that the astromech was quite pleased with himself. And Jaq had to admit the droid had every right to be.

* * *

Unlike a speeder, powering up a starship was a multi-step process, and for a ship like the _Ebon Hawk_, one of those steps was hoping it would actually start. It was not that the ship was old or decrepit, but she had plenty of battle scars. And in Jaq's experience, battle scars caused vessels to do strange things at strange times. Like now, for instance. Despite Bao-Dur, T3-M4 , and himself giving the ship a clean bill of health, the starboard engine refused to activate. The port engine, the one that had been damaged in the attack that left them stranded on this bloody moon all those months ago, was working just fine. It was humming like it was brand new, and while technically one engine had the power to get them off the ground, Jaq the Pilot preferred to play it safe right now than possibly become dead later when something else happened. Problems on starships rarely occurred one at a time.

"Come on, baby, please," pleaded Jaq as he ran through the startup sequence for the sixth time. "Please work. Please. Please. Please."

"I don't think it hears you," said Mira, standing behind him.

"Hey, she hears me just fine. She's just being a little temperamental, that's all." He flicked the final series of switches, achieving the same result as the last half-dozen times he tried them: a sharp buzzing sound coming from the computer indicating a failure in the starboard engine.

"Maybe you burned out something when you goosed the engine as we crashed," she said with a small smirk.

"That wasn't a crash, okay? That was a limited-control landing. There's a big difference."

"We haven't taken off yet."

"Shut up."

"Keep your head, Jaq," said Carver calmly as he entered the cockpit. "Bao-Dur believes he has found the problem."

"Great," replied Jaq. "What was it?"

Carver shrugged. "I am not a mechanic, but he mentioned something about power irregularities in the output distribution system."

Mira leaned towards Jaq. "Told you you goosed it too hard." Jaq just stared out the transparasteel window.

"_Okay, Jaq._" Came Bao-Dur's voice over the comlink, "_try it now._"

Jaq ran through the cycle yet again, but as he activated the starboard engine, he heard a strange rumbling sound echoing from the engine room followed by a slight vibration.

"_Cut the engines!_" yelled Bao-Dur."_Cut the engines!_"

Jaq cancelled the start up sequence once again with a groan and laid his head on the flight wheel in defeat. "We're never getting off this _damn moon_."

"Patience, Jaq," said Carver. "Patience."

So they waited quietly for several minutes, every so often hearing faint echoes coming from the stern of the ship.

"_Alright, one more time_."

Jaq began the sequence, this time reciting a small prayer as he worked. When he flipped the last switch, both engines fired and board went green. Jaq gave a whoop in triumph and fell back into the pilot's seat, emotionally exhausted. Bao-Dur entered the cockpit a moment later, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Well done, old friend," said Carver, patting the tech on the shoulder.

"Thanks, General," replied Bao-Dur.

"How'd you do it?" asked Mira.

The Zabrak hesitated. "Well, I realized the primary conduit wasn't transferring enough energy to the output relays, so I added some kinetic energy to the system to jumpstart it."

"You mean you hit it," Mira deadpanned.

Bao-Dur shrugged and nodded. "In a nutshell."

Mira just shook her head. "Men." Then she headed out of the cockpit.

"What's her problem?" asked Jaq as he pulled back on the flight wheel. "It worked, didn't it?"

As the Ebon Hawk climbed into the sky, Jaq glanced out the window at the jungle below. From high above, the moon actually seemed like a nice place to visit. Green verdant forests, blue sky, no lanes and lanes of air traffic; one might even call it beautiful…except for all the deadly predators, Mandalorians, and the weeks and weeks of torturous hell he had to endure while they were shipwrecked there. So, yes; it did _look_ like a nice place, but that was just an illusion.

The blackness of space never looked so good. Breaking Dxun's atmosphere was one of the happiest moments in Jaq's life. Way out to port was the Onderonian fleet still maintaining its blockade of the planet, albeit with far fewer freighters waiting to pass through the checkpoint. Jaq vectored away from the ships and began plotting the coordinates for their jump to Korriban. He wondered how much had changed there since his last visit. It was shortly after the bombing of Telos. He was flying escort for a transport carrying "special cargo" as the Sith captain put it. Jaq was no fool, but he also knew better than to ask too many questions about subjects that he did not particularly care about. He had bigger fish to fry; a Jedi he was tracking had been spotted near Rhen Var, and Jaq hated to miss appointments.

Jaq's musings were cut short by a sharp warning alarm. He leaned in and scanned the displays. "Aw, crap," he said to himself. "Not again." He hit the internal comm. "Silas."

"_What is going on, Jaq?_"

Jaq exhaled loudly. "We have incoming."

"What?"

Jaq was only half-surprised to hear Carver's voice coming not from over the com system, but from directly behind him. Even so, he did not let it show. "Four units closing in on us. Looks like a wing of Aureks." He heard Carver let out a frustrated growl.

"Tobin. Time to intercept?"

"We'll be long gone before they- what the?" The scanners suddenly picked up eight contacts inbound, the latter four appearing from the location of the first four and moving a great deal faster. "I think they just shot missiles at us. But that makes no sense. We're too far out of range. They'll never reach us before we jump away."

"Turn the ship around."

Jaq did a take; he was positive he had heard Silas incorrectly. He turned to look at his teacher and was prepared to speak, but he saw the dark stare on Carver's face as the man gazed out into space and decided against it. "I'm sure you have a plan," he said as he turned the flight wheel over.

"Hm," was the extent of Carver's reply as he left the cockpit.

"We have about three minutes before those missiles blow the ship into tiny pieces," Jaq yelled.

Carver was positively livid. The _Ebon Hawk_ might not be a top-of-the-line warship like the _Centurion_-class battlecruiser he once called his flagship, but this was still _his_ ship, and no one fires on his ship and gets away with it. Tobin would pay dearly for this offense.

Walking into the main hold, he was immediately approached by the others, including Kreia, although she remained in the background.

"Silas, what is going on?" asked Brianna.

"Tobin is deciding to maintain appearances," replied Carver, "again."

"What do you mean? What has he done?"

"_two minutes, thirty,_" said Jaq over the comlink.

"Two minutes, thirty until what?" asked Mira.

"Tobin has fired on us." Carver looked up and spotted the clan leader listening intently. "Mandalore, do you think you can take those missiles?"

"You mean destroy a group of small, fast-moving projectiles with a slow-moving turret? Shouldn't be a problem." With that, he turned and jogged towards the turret.

Silas motioned for Brianna, Mira, and Visas to follow him to the cockpit.

"Tell me again why we are working for Tobin," said Mira.

"He is a means to an end," replied Silas. "After I get Kavar, I will deal with the good colonel…personally."

"Vaklu may not approve of your taking action against his right hand, my lord," said Visas.

"True," said Carver. He paused for a moment, the wheels in his mind spinning at a brisk pace. Then he smiled. "Then again, there are other ways. Many other ways."

Then the quartet entered the cockpit, Jaq looked back briefly. "Who's in the turret?"

"Mandalore," replied Carver.

"Well tell him to aim a lot better or we're debris."

"Bring the ship to a halt, Jaq."

"Gladly," he said, pushing the throttle all the way to zero. "Would be better it I could go backwards though."

"Not necessary. It is time for a practical application of Force manipulation." Carver casually lifted his arm and pointed towards the incoming projectiles. "Slow down and stop those missiles."

"From this far out?" asked Mira.

"Nothing is impossible with proper focus and concentration," said Visas.

"I am sure the four of you collectively can accomplish this task," said Carver.

"And if we can't," said Jaq, "we're dead. I call that incentive."

Carver moved to the copilot's chair.

"What are you doing?" asked Mira.

"I have my own targets," Craver replied. "Just focus on your objective."

Carver closed his eyes and waited. Within moments, he felt his four students reaching out through the Force towards the incoming missiles. Having all four of them partake in this exercise may have seemed like overkill, but Carver wanted to see them work together to achieve a common goal. Reaching into the Force, he followed their collective consciousness out towards the projectiles. His students had erected a wall of Force energy in front of the missiles to stall their forward motion. Then the wall began to fall around each individual missile, encasing it completely. Carver was pleased, very pleased, with their work. While he was certain they would be successful working in unison, he was pleasantly surprised at how quickly they had succeeded. His students may be progressing faster than he thought they were, and it gave him greater confidence for the future.

Now it was time to show them what the Force could truly do. Delving deep into the Force, Malvolis reached out, far beyond the missiles, all the way out to the pilots who had fired them. As he had on Dxun, he grabbed their minds and pried them open, overriding their thoughts and substituting them with a single unquestionable command. Their reactions were immediate: all four of the fighters broke from the Onderonian fleet and headed straight for the _Ebon Hawk_. Malvolis maintained his link as he opened his eyes just long enough to activate the ship's comm. system.

"Mandalore," said Malvolis. "Four more hostiles incoming. Deal with them." When Mandalore began opening fire on the Onderonians, Malvolis no longer needed to continue dominating the minds of the pilots, so instead he located the comms frequency that Tobin had first used to contact them with and activated it. He was certain Tobin would be listening.

"Tobin, you have made a grave error this day in firing on my ship. Now watch your men pay for your mistake." Malvolis knew Tobin was smart enough to not say anything that might expose their "alliance," but it was clear that Tobin did not understand the finer points of maintaining appearances. No, that required a wise man to comprehend, and Tobin was not such a man. Once all four fighters had been destroyed, Malvolis continued. "You have seen the end of my patience, Tobin. Pray we do not meet again." With that, he cut the link and turned to Jaq. "Get us out of here."

"With pleasure," Jaq replied. He yanked back on the flight wheel and opened the throttle up to maximum; the inertial dampeners strained to compensate for the sudden burst of speed. "Jump in five…four…three…two…one." The stars stretched to infinity, and the _Ebon Hawk_ vanished into hyperspace. The swirling aura of the hyperspace tunnel illuminated the cockpit, overriding the small lights in the room and making it seem darker than usual. Jaq found a sense of warmth in the darkness, as did everyone else present, and he allowed himself to finally relax. He let his head fall to the right and found his teacher still sitting motionless in the copilot's chair, arms crossed in front of him. "So you think Tobin realized you weren't just playing along?"

Malvolis smiled devilishly but did not otherwise move. "No," he said with a chuckle. "I think not. But he will, at a time and place of my choosing."

to be continued...

End note: Next up, "City of the Sith," but I don't quite know when I'll be able to finish it.


	15. City of the Sith

Author's Note- It's that time again. I am back with another installment. Part of the reason it has taken me so long to finish is that this arc is constantly changing. Still is. Feedback is appreciated. Enjoy.

Chapter 15: City of the Sith

-high orbit over Korriban-

The entire crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ gathered in the main hold, surrounding the large holoprojector in the center of the room. Dominating the room was a brown, barren world floating between the two projectors. So strong was the Dark Side on that planet that even its simulation seemed to radiate it.

"So," said Jaq, once again kicking off the planetary briefing, "Korriban. Why would any Jedi want to come here?"

"Korriban has always been a symbolic planet for the Sith, " said Kreia, standing across from him, yet not exactly looking at him as she answered his question. "It is only natural that a Jedi, wishing to understand her enemy, would venture to this place."

"Strolling right into the rancor's den," said Mira. "That's not exactly what I'd call smart."

"Atris once spoke of Master Vash as being soft-spoken and forgiving," said Brianna, "but a competent warrior. I doubt she would be taken down easily."

Although he remained silent, Silas found himself disagreeing with Brianna on those first two accounts, owing to his own personal experience with the Jedi Master. As for the rest, he would find out for himself very soon.

"The threat of encountering Sith on the planet has diminished since the end of the Jedi Civil War," said Visas. "Most left after the academy fell into chaos."

"Yeah," Jaq affirmed with a half-smirk, "Revan really did a number on the place."

"That was after his redemption, I assume," said Silas.

"Technically it was during," replied Jaq. "He came back posing as a student at the academy. Left the place without a headmaster and many of the graduating students dead or questioning their loyalties to the Sith."

"Revan's return merely hastened the academy's fate," said Kreia. "Even though the Sith enjoyed numerous military victories, the Order had already begun to fracture and weaken. The academy on Korriban was destined to fall when the growing factions started to assert themselves."

"Is that were we are likely to find Vash?" asked Silas.

"It is a wise place to begin our search," Kreia answered. "As I said, any Jedi looking for clues as to the nature of the Sith will likely begin there. Though I doubt they will find many clues as to the real threat they face."

"'Real threat'?" repeated Jaq. "You mean us?"

"Perhaps," said Kreia, "but the Sith who now stalk the Jedi are very different from the warriors that once filled Revan and Malak's ranks. These are creatures of stealth and shadows, trained to move and strike unnoticed by their victims."

"You say that with such pride," said Jaq. Kreia did not react in the slightest, although Carver gave him a subtle sideways glance.

"How do we know the Jedi is even here?" asked Visas. "I sense nothing in the Force on the surface."

"Nor will you, from here," replied Kreia. "As lifeless as the planet may seem, the Dark Side of the Force runs strong on Korriban. It keeps its secrets hidden under a veil of darkness."

"Veil of darkness," quipped Jaq. "Great."

"We're splitting up again, aren't we?" asked Mira.

"It is the fastest way to search for Vash," said Silas. "Finding her is our number one priority."

"When you walk Korriban's surface," said Kreia, "you shall do so without me."

"What's the matter?" asked Jaq. "Afraid of what lies beneath the _veil of darkness_?" The mocking tone he added to his voice earned him another scolding sideways glance from Silas and to a lesser extent, Brianna and Mira. It was a small price to pay.

"Not as much as _you_ should be," Kreia shot back, "should you choose to behave so carelessly. Korriban does not suffer the weak and the foolish lightly." She turned back to Silas. "The dark currents that run through Korriban are not unlike those of Nar Shaddaa, but their nature makes it difficult for me to center myself. And there are few secrets the planet can hide from me, yet to fully appreciate them, you must discover them for yourself."

"Very well," said Silas. "If that is your decision, I trust you will alert me when necessary."

"If I feel you require it," she continued, "I shall contact you through our bond. But do not expect me to guide your every step."

Silas nodded and turned back to Jaq. "There's a spaceport near the academy. Set us down there."

"On it," Jaq replied with an informal salute as he jogged out of the room.

Silas turned back to the others. "Grab your gear; be ready to move as soon as we land." Wordlessly, the crowd dispersed save for Brianna, who was wearing a look of concern and her arms wrapped around her as she glanced over to him then at the image of Korriban. Silas grinned; he had seen this conversation coming, and thus, he was well prepared for it. "Is there a problem, my love?" he asked as he walked over to her.

"No," she replied quickly. "It is simply that what I feel from this planet is making my stomach turn. I do not like this place."

"I believe I would call that a problem," he said with a half-grin.

"Does the Dark Side always feel like this?" she asked.

Such questions were the result of Atris' lectures no doubt. Brianna had been taught to fear the Dark Side and its users by the Jedi historian, and such things were hard to unlearn. Undoing the damage Atris caused seemed to be a never-ending task. "No," he replied. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You have been with me for how many months? Did your stomach ever turn at the sight of me?"

Brianna's solemn expression disappeared in an instant. She smiled an almost predatory smile and leaned in closer. "Only when you neglected to shower."

Silas chuckled softly in realization. "A low blow, my dear. And unnecessary." His right hand moved to the back of her neck as he pulled her in to complete the kiss she sought. The taste of her on his lips was, as ever, intoxicating. Would that such moments could last forever.

When they finally broke apart, Brianna was wearing a most satisfied smile. "I feel much better," she said.

"I knew you would," replied Silas, leaning his forehead against hers. "But bury any doubts and fears you may have on Korriban, my love, and embrace the Force in its raw form. You may find that you actually like it." After stealing one more kiss, the pair reluctantly separated. Brianna headed for the cargo hold and Silas for the cockpit.

The _Ebon Hawk_ was still well above Korriban's cloud layer when Silas entered the room. He stood directly behind Jaq, resting his left forearm on the top of the pilot's chair, and watched the ship gradually descend. "Have you had any contact from the spaceport?" he asked.

"No," replied Jaq, shaking his head. "Looks like the entire city's abandoned, maybe the whole planet. Well, except for our Jedi friend."

"I doubt the planet is as abandoned as it seems."

Jaq gave Silas a backwards glance. "You sense something?"

Carver closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force. He could not sense anyone in particular, but there was an aura of darkness that felt…different, more organized, than the ambient energy. And they were headed right for it. "Possibly."

Jaq made a few slight course corrections as he guided the _Ebon Hawk_ into the copper-hued clouds. It took less than a minute to pass through the layer, and once the ship emerged, the city of Dreshdae was only barely visible to the naked eye. It was a tiny speck in the distance noticeable only because the city broke the natural pattern of the horizon and color of the landscape. "Then I guess I don't need to tell you I have a bad feeling about this," he said momentarily glancing up over his shoulder.

Carver opened his eyes and chuckled. "I will begin to worry when you stop having such feelings." After a few moments of silence, his expression hardened. "You really should not try to goad her like that, Jaq. It does not suit your character anymore." In the back of his mind, he could hear Jaq reciting Pazaak totals in his head. It made Carver all the more curious.

"I know," Jaq said, matching Carver's tone almost perfectly, "but I did it for a reason."

Carver arched his brow. "Really? You think she was hiding something from us?" He detected a hint of surprise in his own voice, which was surprising in and of itself. How could he have missed such a thing from Kreia? Was he slipping?

"Yeah," Jaq replied. "She knows something that she's not telling us. I don't think she's trying to get us killed down there, but I do know when someone's not being upfront. We need to be careful."

"We always need to be careful, Jaq, but yes, I agree." Carver studied the city growing in the cockpit window for a moment. "When we reach the Dreshdae, we will be splitting us up into three groups. I will be going to the Sith academy to search for Vash. Bao-Dur will be tasked with downloading the starport's archive; I want the names, the crews, and cargo manifests of every ship that has come to or left this starport for as far back as the records go."

"_If_ the city still has an active power grid system," Jaq reminded him.

Carver gave his apprentice a cool grin. "I have no doubt it does." Jaq let out a small chuckle. "And your group will recon the city."

Jaq looked back up at Silas. "The city?" Disbelief momentarily flashed across his face before he could check himself; he had expected Silas to take him with him to the academy.

Carver caught the look, but kept on as if he had not. "Yes. There is a chance Vash may not be in the academy as we assume. If that is the case, scouting the city will narrow down the list of places she could be hiding. You may even find her yourself."

Once again, Silas' logic was undeniable, but Jaq still felt somewhat slighted. Already he felt like he was on a wild bantha chase. And who would be running with him? Jaq was sure Silas would take Brianna with him to the academy, and if Bao-Dur was going to scour Dreshdae's computer network, he'd take the droids with him. Which would mean… "So who's on my team?"

Carver did not so much as bat an eyelash. "I am putting you with Mira and Mandalore."

Jaq actually did a take. Mira he could handle, but Mandalore? Jaq could not believe Silas would consider putting him with Mandalore. He had to know they did not get along. _Which is probably why he did it,_ thought Jaq. Sometimes he wasn't sure if Silas was trying to force camaraderie or just pushing his buttons. Either way, Silas' decision was made; there was no point in debating him. "Right," said Jaq, returning to the flight controls. As he made a few course corrections, Silas stood behind him and watched. A half-grin slid slowly over his face.

* * *

Jedi Master Lonna Vash's eyes drifted open as she emerged from her meditative trance. The first thing she registered was also the last thing she remembered when she drifted off: the sixteen steel bars that kept her in isolation deep within the Sith academy. Well, not so much the bars; it would be an easy task to use the Force to dislodge them and free herself. No, what truly kept her here was the Sith Lord that had ambushed her and taken her lightsaber. Vash still mentally berated herself for letting that scarred Sith surprise her like he had, but now it seemed someone else was about to arrive. Someone familiar. Someone now wrapped in darkness.

"He has come for you."

Vash recognized that rumbling baritone in an instant. Vash likened the sound of the Sith Lord's voice to a great machine straining under its own weight as it moved, mutilating itself more and more as the days wore on. Very much like the Sith Lord himself.

Darth Sion stepped into view. Naked from the waist up, his body was looked more like a shattered statue reassembled with red sealant. The Force moved around and through him in a way she had never seen before. It seemed to both tear him apart and hold him together at the same time. Her analogies seemed less figurative and more literal every time she looked upon him. Most disturbing of all was his dead right eye centered in a crater of exposed muscle that used to be its socket. Sion looked at her with his one good eye, wearing a sneer on his face; it was as close as Vash had ever seen him come to smiling. "Though I doubt he intends to save you."

"You assume much, Sith Lord," Vash replied, though she had a feeling there was more truth in his words than she would care to admit.

"It is you who assumes much, _Master Jedi_. All that the Exile leaves behind him is a trail of dead. He is no friend to your kind."

So the rumors were true, as Vash had feared. And yet, there might be a chance for her to escape if she waited for the right moment.

"Do not worry, Master Jedi. I will not let the Exile anywhere near you." With that, he backed into the darkness.

* * *

Having given his crew their assignments, Silas Carver, along with Brianna and HK-47, headed towards the Sith academy to search for the Jedi Master. As they walked through the abandoned city, the Dark Side of the Force chilled his spine as he allowed it to flow through him. Indeed the Force here felt much like it had on Nar Shaddaa, but there was an undercurrent of unsettling emotions that Nar Shaddaa lacked. It tugged at his sanity, attempting to twist his thoughts even as it empowered him. _Kreia was right; a weak mind would indeed be destroyed here._ And yet, somehow Carver was disappointed; he was expecting more.

"_Much of what Korriban once was has been decimated,"_ said Kreia telepathically. _"Without a strong Sith presence, the Dark Side here will begin to ebb. While Korriban will always be the heart of any Sith empire, future Sith Lords will look upon its surface and see a barren world whose strongest days were behind it. But for the sake of tradition, they will embrace this planet, and perhaps weaken themselves for it."_

_Will the Dark Side eventually fade away completely? _asked Carver.

"_The Dark Side will always be a part of Korriban, and a truly strong Sith presence might restore what had been lost. But to rid a planet of the Force would take an unparalleled act of destruction..."_

"Statement: Master, according to what remains of my memory banks," stated HK-47 abruptly, "the Sith academy is located just beyond the city."

Carver turned to regard the droid, somewhat irritated that his musings had once again been shattered. But after a few breaths, he let the slight pass. "So you have been here before, HK?" he asked.

"Oh yes, Master," HK replied. "Recollection: My original master came to this planet shortly after reclaiming me on Tatooine." Even as HK spoke, his photoreceptors scanned and rescanned the surroundings, searching for any signs of hostiles. "Although his primary mission was to locate the star map, he was also endeavoring to recover memories from his true identity."

Carver could feel the Dark Side steadily growing stronger. He brought his right arm up on instinct; his fingers were already curled and ready to catch the lightsaber waiting to be launched by the small catapult under his sleeve. "Why?" he asked. "I thought Revan abandoned the Dark Side?"

"Explanation: Although my master did ultimately choose the path of peace and pacifism over galactic domination," replied HK, sounding noticeably resigned and disappointed, "for a time he was rightfully outraged by the Jedi's reprogramming of his mind."

"I do not understand why the Jedi would do such a thing," said Brianna, also keeping one eye out for trouble. "Atris always spoke of the Jedi Council's actions as being above reproach, but…"

"Atris' ideology has consumed her," replied Carver. "It has formed a wall between her and reality, a wall I will very much enjoy demolishing some day."

"If such a thing is possible," said Brianna, almost to herself.

Carver gave her a wide grin. "I am always up for a challenge, my love." He turned back to HK. "So HK, why would Revan turn away from the Dark Side knowing that the Jedi tried to reprogram him?"

Had HK-47 been built with the ability to show facial expressions, Carver was certain the droid would be grimacing at this moment. "Request: Master, please do not make me recount that moment. My master's duel against his old apprentice is a much more exciting story to tell."

"Later," said Carver. "Keep it brief then; just the heart of the matter."

"Amused statement: Master, of all possible idioms available to you, you had to choose that one."

"What do you mean?"

"Answer: Because Master, you answered your own question." HK noted Carver's furrowed brow as a sign of misunderstanding. "It was…love, Master. That most disturbing of organic emotions doomed him. When I saw my old master shed tears over that female's betrayal, I knew then that the man who had originally constructed me was lost. Even today, my processors have difficulty determining the logic in my old master's actions. I had thought he was beyond such primitive drives, but my old master proved me wrong many times. And the constant exchanges in body fluids was staggering; I thought I would rust just observing them. I hope to never encounter such an emotional outpouring again for as long as I am functional."

Carver cast a small grin over to Brianna. As perceptive as HK was, sometimes the droid was just oblivious. _Then again_, he thought, looking back at HK, _perhaps it is intentional._

"Statement: Yes, well; enough of that painful stroll through what remains of my memory core. The academy is just over a kilometer from our current position."

A faint explosion echoed from deep with in the city. For a moment, Carver's attention was diverted towards the sudden noise, but only for a moment. There was nothing he could do, he decided as he started walking again. The others would just have to handle it themselves. And he was pleasantly surprised to discover that he was not concerned in the least.

* * *

It wasn't the fact that his ears were ringing that concerned Jaq, nor that the blast had blown him on his back, knocked the air out of his lungs, and maybe cracked a few of his ribs. No, what concerned him the most was the cortosis vibroblade holding steady several centimeters over his face, blocked only by his ignited bladestaff. The assassin holding the weapon was on top of him, desperately trying to push both weapons down. Jaq could sense Mira and Mandalore nearby somewhere, but he could not worry about them right now.

The governor's mansion was their first stop in their exploration of the city. Having decided that a building-by-building search of the city would be a waste of time, they chose instead to recon likely areas the Sith would set up a headquarters. The obvious choice was the academy, but since Silas and his group were going there, the next best place to start was the government sector. When they arrived as the multi-story mansion, Jaq had taken point and was about to pull open the large, elaborately-carved, wooden doors when a massive fireball erupted from inside. The force of the explosion shattered the doors and sent Jaq flying backwards. Only a last-second Force barrier kept the flames from getting into his lungs. The fireball had yet to fully dissipate when the Sith assassins emerged from the mansion and attacked.

As the assassin continued his attempt to drive his weapon home, Jaq made a series of subtle moves that shifted his center of gravity then launched the assassin off him with a Force-assisted kick to his backside. Jaq kicked-up in time to see the assassin land on his feet, spun his bladestaff into a defensive stance, and beckoned his opponent to attack.

The assassin was all too willing to comply. Holding his vibroblade over his left shoulder, he wordlessly charged Jaq. Before the assassin began his swing, Jaq was already in motion, building up the momentum that made his technique lethal. He knew the first blow would not be the killing blow, but once he put the assassin on the defensive, it would be just a matter of time. However, when their weapons met, instead of the glancing blow Jaq was expecting, the assassin intercepted his double-blade at just the right angle to bring him to a halt. The impact from the blow kicked up dust at their feet and caused the assassin to give half a step of ground, but Jaq had been shut down. Jaq broke contact and swung out with the other end of his bladestaff, but again the assassin stalled his momentum. Again Jaq changed the direction of his attack, aiming the leading blade at his opponent's neck, but the assassin dodged the blow, rolled to Jaq's left, pushed away the attacking end of the bladestaff, and immediately locked blades with the trailing end, the heavy impact again sending a shudder through him.

Jaq recognized the assassin's fighting style. His opponent was trained in double-bladed combat, specifically in how to counter those kinds of weapons. It was a technique he was familiar with, having learned it himself way back when, and it was similar to the style frequently used against him by Silas during his training. There were differences between Silas' style the Sith's, namely the kind of weapon used in training. Non-Force-using Sith were trained against vibro double-blades and staffs which, although they were two-handed weapons like double-bladed lightsabers, had small but crucial differences. Jaq leapt back several meters and spun his bladestaff into a preparation stance, holding the blade with his right hand level behind his back. He was ready to take advantage of those differences.

This time, he did not wait for the assassin to come at him. Charging forward, Jaq swung his blade around intending to cleave the assassin through the torso. As the assassin moved to block the attack, Jaq reversed the motion of his blade. Realizing the feint, the assassin hastily repositioned himself. Jaq stepped to the side as the weapons collided, putting the assassin out of place to stop Jaq's momentum. Jaq stepped in and shoved the leading end of his bladestaff forward. The assassin leaned back to avoid losing his head and was moving his sword up to block again when Jaq again changed the direction of his weapon, bringing the trailing end up and through the assassin's arms just behind his wrists.

While the assassin had been a strong opponent, he had relied on the wrong technique in this fight. Had Jaq been wielding a staff, his strike would have bounced off the assassin's bracers, causing some pain but not much. With a vibro double-blade, Jaq would have had to rotate the weapon in the direction of his swings, alerting the assassin of his intentions. But Jaq wielded neither of those weapons.

The assassin's screams filled Jaq's ears as he rotated his body around for the final blow. When the assassin came back into view, he tightened his grip and thrust the blade into the heart of his opponent. Jaq held his bladestaff steady and allowed himself a devilish grin. He was quite proud of this kill, his first in months, and as he felt the life drain from his victim, he reveled in his victory and in the high of the adrenaline rush. It was a sensation he had not felt in years, and to experience it again was like reuniting with an old friend.

But the feeling did not last. Jaq was brought back to the present when the dead body started falling towards him. He deactivated his bladestaff and let the corpse flop to the ground. He started at the prone form that had reminded him of the thrill of the kill, already eager to find his next opponent.

The sharp crack of a blaster firing drew Jaq's attention to his left. Expecting to witness Mandalore riddle his attacker with plasma, he was surprised to find Mira moving to finish off her opponent. The assassin was staggering back with his hands covering his face, likely where he had just been shot. While not taking her eyes off her target, Mira twirled her lightsaber in front of her and executed a fast horizontal slice that cut through the assassin's right hand, neck, then left hand. Without pausing, she spun on her right heel, bringing herself completely around, and carved a figure-8 in the air, a move Jaq recognized as a Makashi flourish. Apparently he wasn't the only one enjoying himself today.

Having accounted for Mira, Jaq scanned the area for Mandalore, finding the clan leader meters away from them near the western wall of the mansion and standing over an already motionless assassin. His strill eyed the body as it slowly walked around it. Mandalore fired two shots from his assault rifle into the body on either side of the chest and a third into the head, a standard Mandalorian battlefield safety precaution.

"A hell of a welcome, wasn't it?" asked Mira, walking up beside Jaq. "I'd almost say we were on the right track."

Jaq gave her a raised eyebrow. "Almost?"

Mira looked towards the upper levels of the mansion. "I don't sense our Jedi anywhere near here."

"She's in the academy," replied Jaq. "I know it."

Mira cracked a small grin. "You almost sound disappointed."

One did not need to be a Jedi to see that about Jaq at this moment, so Jaq was not surprised Mira could read him. He just wished she would stop calling him out every time.

"Hey, Kath Hound!" yelled Mandalore as he marched towards them, assault rifle gently swinging from the sling on his right hip, "The next time _Prud'ika_ smells a trap, pay attention! I didn't come all the way out here just to haul around your limp carcass."

Jaq held himself in check despite every fiber of his being demanding satisfaction._ Control, control, _he kept reminding himself._ He's just trying to goad you._ "Alright then," he said, keeping his tone as even as he could. "You two can take point from now on."

"Fine by me," said Mandalore nonchalantly. He looked down at his strill. "C'mon _Prud'ika_; the _aruetii_ needs us to keep him from getting killed." The strill let out a short bark as if it was acknowledging its master's comment, then the pair turned and headed up into the remains of the collapsed entranceway.

Jaq's jaw clenched shut as he watched them disappear into the mansion. When they were finally out of sight, he breathed out a heavy calming sigh. In the back of his mind, however, Jaq envisioned himself snapping the Mandalorian's neck with his bare hands over and over and over; it seemed to pacify him much more than the breath he just took.

"Wow," said Mira, eyebrows raised and still dawning that smile of hers. "Who are you and what did you do to the short-tempered smartass I knew back on Dxun?"

Jaq let out a small chuckle. At least she wasn't digging into his mind right now, or at least not very far. Nevertheless, he started up a new round of Pazaak just in case. "C'mon," he said after several moments. "Our Jedi may not be in there, but they're definitely guarding something in there." With that, they started for the mansion.

* * *

The irregular flickering of wall lights only added to the already eerie atmosphere that was the Dreshdae starport. To Bao-Dur, however, the fact that the lights were even on was a good sign; it meant the starport was still receiving power, at least in this section of the vast building complex. And it was vast; outside of Republic space, this was the largest starport Bao-Dur had ever been in. Visas moved quietly beside him, the low light not affecting her perceptions in the slightest. The same could be said of T3 and G0-T0. Indeed, Bao-Dur was quite possible the most vulnerable member of the group from a sensory point of view. He was by no means helpless, thanks in part to the General's training, but he would be the last to know if a threat appeared.

"At the next juncture, Iridonian," stated G0-T0, "we proceed to the left."

Bao-Dur looked back at the droid with a slight grin. "Does this mean you've hacked into the old network?"

"No," the droid replied, "the security network has shut out all wireless entry. The only feasible way to gain access is a direct link via the primary or secondary security terminals."

"Then how do you know where to go?" asked Bao-Dur.

"This sector of the starport is relatively new, likely constructed during the Jedi Civil War." The group came to a halt to give Goto their full attention. "The layout matches a number of other starport blueprints constructed by Czerka Corporation during that time. Given that, determining the location of the data storage room is a relatively simple matter. Czerka is not known for architectural creativity." The black droid floated to the front of the group. "Follow me." The rhythmic warbling of his repulsors increased as they compensated for his higher speed, almost reflecting a sense of excitement or anticipation on the droid's part.

The group followed G0-T0 through corridor after corridor, silently hoping the droid knew where he was going. Each new wing seemed to be maintaining its own level of power with some areas being completely dark. The randomness did little to boost Bao-Dur's confidence. Even less so when Goto abruptly turned right down another unlit hall and came to a halt in front of a pair of double doors.

"Here," stated G0-T0.

"You sure?" asked Bao-Dur, trying to not sound too disappointed.

"I am, of course, extrapolating from previous schematics," answered the black droid, "though the probabilities are favorable."

Bao-Dur walked up to the access panel next to the door and tested the touch screen, getting no reaction from it. Getting a grip on the rim of the panel's lip, he gently pulled it off and surveyed the wires and connections behind it. His inspections complete, he let out a short sigh. From behind him, T3 whistled an idea. "No," Bao-Dur replied, giving the doorframe a once over. "I don't think this door has a manual override." T3 let out a short series of beeps. "Well, we have two options. We can try to find the power short and repair it or we can give up and go back to the ship." T3 replied with another series of beeps and whistles. "When has it ever been easy?"

Visas suddenly perked up. "We are not alone here."

Bao-Dur whipped his head over to face her. "What is it? Sith?" He felt a flash of fear; they were not well-equipped for combat against Sith warriors.

Visas remained silent for a moment. "No. These are not human minds. They are feral,… yet organized, cooperative."

T3 let out a long solemn tone.

"Pack animals," stated Bao-Dur.

"Primitive organics with base-level intelligence," replied G0-T0.

Bao-Dur gave him a backwards glance. "You've never been ambushed by a group of predators, have you?" He still had nightmares from time to time about his experiences of the Republic campaign on Dxun. And a few other planets for that matter. "Are they coming for us?" he asked Visas.

"Not at the moment," she answered. "But they are prowling. We should be prepared."

"Perhaps we should engage them first," said G0-T0. "We have the initiative."

"But not a plan," Bao-Dur retorted.

G0-T0 hovered a little higher than normal. "I am an intelligence droid; I always have a plan."

* * *

Silas Carver strode casually up to the great obsidian door of the Sith academy. His eyes told him that he was alone, but he knew that was a lie; there were six armed assassins arraying themselves around him at this very moment. Even so, he did not make a move to engage them. He simply closed his eyes, let his shoulders relax, and waited for the right moment.

The attack came in an instant. As one, all six assassins charged him, staffs ready to crush his chest in a six-pointed strike. Carver spun on his heels into a crouch and slammed the ground with his palm, sending up a wave of Force energy that scattered the group and short-circuited their stealth generators. Shifting his weight slightly, he launched himself out of the crouch and into the first assassin, who was still recovering from the invisible blow. Carver grabbed the assassin by the face and shifted around behind him, positioning his elbow under the assassin's chin. With a fierce twist, he broke the armored man's neck with a sharp crack. Having no time to savor his kill, he cast the body aside and locked onto his next target.

Carver charged the nearest assassin, who stood with his back against the building wall and his staff ready, and squeezed the fingers on his right hand, triggering the catapult under his sleeve. The hilt was in his hand in half a second and ignited in the other half. Just before he was within arm's reach of the assassin, Carver threw his left arm out and blasted the Sith with a wall of dark energy, pressing him flat against the wall and unable to move. As he closed the remaining distance, Carver detected a sudden rush of fear coming from the assassin; he knew he was about to die. Darth Malvolis drank in that fear and used it to fuel the dark energy flowing through him. By the time he drove the red blade through the assassin's heart, Malvolis was fully immersed in the power of the dark side and loving every moment of it. Pausing for only a heartbeat, he tore his blade free and sighted his third victim.

The remaining four assassins were moving to surround him again. Either they had incredibly short memories, or they believed they had a viable attack plan. Unfortunately for them, plans never seemed to work out against people like Malvolis, and he was about to show them why. As they spread out around him, he held his blade in a two-handed grip and vaulted low over the leftmost assassin. The warrior, suddenly on his own, managed to put up his weapon and avoid losing a part of his body. Malvolis' moves were fast and precise; the assassin barely managed to keep up. The other three quickly ran over to help, but not before Malvolis managed to force his opponent's staff to his right. Malvolis then let go with his left hand and held out his arm. He was too far away from the assassin to get a hold of him, but that was not his aim. Instead, he triggered his other saber. The assassin lived just long enough to register a red flash of light before the blade burned through his forehead.

Malvolis ripped his blade free and turned around in time to block the incoming strike from the first assassin to reach him. He shoved the assassin's staff back and spun away, the tip of his right saber gouging out a piece of the assassin's cheek in the process. His roll placed him between and below the other two assassins, catching them off-guard. Out of position and unprepared, their attacks were reactionary in nature and easily blocked by Malvolis simply throwing up his red blades. As their resistance against him increased, Malvolis tapped the well of dark energy he had been filling since before the battle began. Physically, the move was a simple flicking of two fingers on each hand, but in the Force, a torrent of energy was unleashed from his hands as a storm of blue-white lightning. The force of the attack knocked the two assassins backwards off their feet. With the resistance against him gone, Malvolis rose to his full height, threw out his arms, and with a fierce battlecry, exerted his will on the wild maelstrom of electricity radiating from his hands. The tendrils coalesced around the two assassins, holding them in midair as they were slowly electrocuted. Malvolis could barely hear their screams over the din of his own attack. Many seconds later, he send a burst of Force energy from his palms that sent the charred bodies flying away in opposite directions. The electricity subsided to a few sparks jumping between his fingers. Tiny puffs of smoke coming from the knuckles on his index and ring fingers told him the sensors that activated his catapults had been damaged. He would have to replace them.

Malvolis glanced up from his fingers at the one remaining assassin; the armored man seemed to be mulling over his options. He had just witnessed five of his allies fall to a single enemy in quick succession, and his chances of winning were just as low as they had been for the others. Unfortunately for the assassin, his decision to fight or run was taken out of his hands. The last thing he registered was an explosion of heat radiating through his abdomen.

Carver looked on with a wide grin as a frost-colored lightsaber broke through the assassin's stomach. The now lifeless body quickly crumpled to the ground under its own weight, revealing Brianna to be the assassin's assassin. She silently deactivated her lightsaber and attached it to a lanyard on the side of her belt. The style of the hilt matched that of her Echani blades, right down to the number of contours in the grip and the pommel. It was a proud day for both of them when she finally completed it back on Dxun. To give it life, Carver offered Brianna the silver crystal from his own lightsaber. The only other power crystal available was the red crystal from Vrook's re-purposed blade, but he knew it would not suit her well. Call him eccentric, but the silver color seemed to fit her to a tee.

"I thought the plan was for you to strike when they were all focused on me," said Carver as Brianna walked over.

She merely smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself," she said in a low voice. "I decided to let you have your fun." She leaned in for a quick kiss. "And he was entirely focused on you when I killed him."

"Indeed he was," replied Carver with a soft chuckle.

"Statement: An excellent display of combat prowess, Master," said HK-47, emerging from his cover. "In time, you could almost rival my old master."

HK's arrival signaled the end of Silas and Brianna's moment, prompting her to reluctantly step back. Silas glanced over at HK, giving the droid a raised eyebrow. "Almost, HK?"

"Affirmation: Yes, Master; Almost. While you share many qualitites with my old master, there are certain fundamental differences that make you unique. As a Sith and as a Jedi, my master was naturally aggressive, overwhelming his opponents with force before they were adequately prepared. He was a juggernought on the battlefield, wading and cutting through his enemies in a series of masterful strikes. You seem to prefer letting your opponents prepare themselves before you tear them down. You also rely more heavily on your non-physical abilities, your Force powers, as you put it."

Carver stared unblinking at the droid. "How does that make him the stronger?"

HK hesitated for a hundredth of a second, a very long time for a droid. "It is not so much _that_ my old master was more aggressive; it is _why_. Explanation: Whether he was out to destroy the Republic or save it, Revan always had a purpose to fight, a goal he was striving to attain. It gave him a curious strength. It is a strength…I do not see in you."

"I _have_ my mission, HK," Carver said warningly.

"Statement: Oh I know, Master," replied HK, "and I shall stand by you until its completion. Musing: I merely wonder why it has not empowered you as it empowered my old master."

Carver took a long breath and slowly turned around to face the massive three-meter-high door keeping them out of the Sith academy. At first glance there seemed to be no way in. There did not seem to be an access panel or handle anywhere nearby, but there were set of heavy sliding locks keeping the door in place. As he searched for a way in, Carver felt Brianna's hand on his shoulder.

"Your mission is not Revan's," she said, "so your strength is not his either."

"I know," Silas replied quietly. "Still." There was a part of him that did not want to admit HK may have had a point. To do so might call into question too much. So he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the door in front of him. It was an easier obstacle to deal with. On a whim, he pressed his right hand against the door. When he touched the door, a feeling of warmth filled his mind. In that instant, he recognized what he was dealing with. "This is a Force lock." Force locks, as the name implied, could only be opened by Force-users. A network of crystals within the wall triggered the mechanism when exposed to a concentrated burst of Force energy. Trying to breach the door by conventional means always damaged the delicate latticework, which would then the door essentially into a wall.

Carver closed his eyes, tapped the well of dark energy again, and channeled it through his hand. The reaction was immediate; the obsidian door rumbled to life and its face began to move. What had appeared to be mere ornamentations on the door's surface began to shift and turn, some sections of the face even retracting into the adjacent wall. Seconds later, its transformation was complete and it slowly rose off the ground. Behind the obsidian door was more blackness, the ambient light behind them making the contrast more severe, and within that darkness, Carver could sense a dark power, the same dark power he had been tracking since before he had even landed on Korriban. Steeling himself for the inevitable, Carver stepped over the threshold and into the pitch-black, with Brianna and HK-47 right on his heels. The trio moved in silence; only a few tiny sparks of electricity flickering across his arms betrayed Carver's growing excitement. The doubt he had been feeling a moment ago washed away. He did have a mission, an agenda that was all his own. It may have been delayed a couple of months, but it resumed in earnest today.

to be continued...

End Note- As I said earlier, this story is constantly evolving. I may have to evolve a few things (like the location of the cave) to fit it all in. I would normally just let it go, but that is not my style. Not sure what the next chapter will be called; it will depend on how far I get. Questions, complements, or complaints; leave them on your way out.


	16. Scarred

Author's note- I have finally returned with another installment. If you have been following me from the beginning, this is the chapter that I kept saying would be next but kept pushing back. No longer. Enjoy!.

Chapter 16: Scarred

Jaq pressed himself as flat against the doorframe as he could, trying to not present any part of himself as a target for the company of Sith soldiers defending the split-level dining hall on the other side. Every so often a random blaster bolt would zip into the floor at his feet as some twitchy Sith squeezed his trigger too hard. Mira stood on the other end of the doorframe, holding her pistolsaber level in case someone got too curious. For a moment Jaq was reminded of their excursion on G0-T0's yacht; once again they were hiding behind a doorframe to avoid being gunned down by overwhelming firepower.

Needless to say, Jaq was not happy. Their progress through the mansion up until this point had been relatively quick. What little resistance they had encountered had been deftly swept away with a few parries and saber strokes. The Sith put up their first significant defense at the grand staircase, but the position quickly collapsed when the staircase collapsed. Now they were stopped completely outside the third-floor dining hall. The only thing keeping them from storming the room was a trio of tripod-mounted, heavy repeating blaster cannons set up behind a row of overturned tables on a balcony in the middle of the room. And if that weren't frustrating enough, Jaq was now waiting for Mandalore to do whatever it was he had set out to do. When it became clear that they were stuck, the clan leader abruptly broke off and headed back the way they had come, telling them to simply hole up and wait. The only bright side was that he took that pet of his with him.

Jaq swore under his breath as a single blaster bolt flew past him and burned a black hole in the red carpet; he hated waiting. Waiting meant the enemy had more time to encircle and kill you. But that last shot reminded him that there were a whole score of enemies waiting for him to make a reckless move.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a green light flashed on Jaq's forearm communicator, a gift from the Dxun Mandalorians. It was certainly more convenient than the pocket model. He looked over at Mira, who had received the same signal, and the pair acknowledged each other with a nod.

The tense silence was shattered by a very loud, very profane _Mando'a_ battlecry that echoed throughout the dining hall, turning the head of every soldier in the room. The bellicose declaration was quickly drowned out, however, by the sound of a Mandalorian heavy repeater. Volleys of automatic blasterfire spread out from the left side of the rear of the hall, forcing everyone in the room to duck and dive for cover. Three soldiers who did not react fast enough were mowed down by the voluminous spray of plasma.

Then the retaliation began. Every Sith rifle turned on Mandalore and opened fire, creating a cone of red light that converged at a point near the rear of the room. The concentrated fire overloaded Mandalore's power shield, forcing him to backpedal out of the room, but he had successfully turned around the entire Sith company. More importantly, the soldiers who had been manning the tripod cannons had abandoned them, unable to fully rotate the heavy weapons. It was the opening Jaq and Mira needed.

_Rushing them won't do,_ thought Jaq. _They'll just get back on those cannons._ He held up his hand to keep Mira from storming into the room. "Cover me," he told her.

"What?" she asked. "What are you-"

"Just cover me," he repeated.

She activated her lightsaber and moved into the dining hall, doing as little as possible to draw attention to herself. Behind her, Jaq closed his eyes and opened himself up to the Force, letting the dark energy of Korriban fill his being. The affect was immediate; as power filled him, so too did his desire for destruction. But he was not yet ready. He needed more.

"_Any time you two are ready,_" came Mandalore's expecting voice over the comlink.

Jaq felt a twinge of frustration, but instead of discarding the emotion, he used it to bolster his power. He turned his frustration into hatred into rage, rage against Mandalore and anyone else who had ever slighted him in his life. Jaq's eyes snapped open, and his mind became perfectly clear; he knew exactly what to do. He threw his hands out and concentrated the Force into his arms. "Get down," he ordered Mira. She dropped to the floor without a moment's hesitation. With a massive exertion of will, he channeled the Force around and into the steel architecture of the balcony. The strain on his focus increased exponentially as he expanded his area of influence, but he soon enveloped the structure completely, permeating every crack and seam. The pressure in Jaq's mind built to a painful crescendo as the dark Force energies demanded he execute the promised act of destruction.

"_What are you two doing!_?" shouted Mandalore.

"This," answered Jaq. He released the built-up energy with a mental snap. In an instant, the entire balcony was annihilated from within. Support beams twisted and buckled, welded sheets ripped apart and rolled in on themselves, and large bolts ejected from their holes at mach speeds. The whole floor heaved upward from the sudden release of energy, knocking over Sith soldier and furniture alike, straining the structure's already compromised integrity. With a resonating crack, it dropped straight down, crushing everyone and everything under a mass of twisted and broken steel.

Jaq staggered backwards and braced himself against the wall, heart racing, weak-kneed, out of breath, but smiling. He even managed a chuckle. While Jaq recovered, Mira sprung into action. She vaulted high in the air and scanned for any Sith who may have been lucky enough to survive, finding a safe purchase on an upward-bending support beam sticking out above the ruined balcony. Mira stood silent and still, waiting patiently for the survivors to reveal themselves. She was soon rewarded moments later when pieces of metal began shifting and rising. Mira leveled her pistolsaber at the Sith soldiers as they slowly forced their way through the rubble and put an end to their good fortune with a shot between the eyes. The room fell deathly silent. For a moment.

"Well done, Kath Hound!" declared Mandalore, climbing over the pile of metal. Once clear of the debris, he strode over to Jaq and clapped him hard on the shoulder, causing Jaq to wince. "A little slow in the execution, but I can't argue with the results. I'll make a warrior out of you yet!" Completely ignoring his glowering stare, Mandalore knocked Jaq once more in the shoulder with his fist. He did not even wait for Jaq to respond before he started climbing back over the rubble. "_Oy, Prud'ika!_"

Mira jumped off her perch and landed next to Jaq as he pushed himself off the wall. "Well, what do you know," she said with a smile, "he actually gave you a complement."

"Is that what that was?" asked Jaq, still trying to steady his breathing. "I couldn't tell."

"I say take it and run," replied Mira. "You may not get another."

"_Hey ladies,_" said Mandalore over the comlink, "_are you going to stand around gossiping all day, or are we going to get moving?_"

"Right," said Jaq, shutting off his comlink.

"Do we even know where we're going?" Mira asked as Jaq walked past her.

Jaq started climbing over the pile of debris. "Forward," he stated flatly, "until we find something worth stopping for."

Mira's eyes widened in shock and confusion; did Jaq really just say that?

* * *

Bao-Dur stood behind T3-M4 as the droid cut through the wall plating. He held his Zabrak pistol in a tight grip, every-so-often glancing over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't been flanked. Not that he could see much; the power in this corridor had been shut off, courtesy of G0-T0, and it would stay off for a good while. Just as T3 finished his cut, Bao-Dur knelt down and took hold of the top edge of the panel, setting it aside as quietly as he could.

This was their part of G0-T0's plan, a way to effectively deal with the pack of predators that were roaming the halls of the starport. Visas called the animals _tukatas_ and said that Sith students sometimes took them as pets. If Bao-Dur had to guess, he would have to say the "domesticated" tukatas were more dangerous than their wild counterparts, which were no doubt deadly by their own right. So it was with some small amount of reluctance that he agreed to actively hunt the hunters.

Bao-Dur turned to face the section of newly-exposed wiring. With T3 illuminating the open area, it took him only a few moments to identify what he was looking for among the web of circuits. To the untrained eye, it was a small grey box with no identifying markings, but to Bao-Dur, it was the buffer amplifier for this section of the wall. He fished out his cutter and began carefully severing the buffer's connections and excising it from its housing. Setting down the buffer, he went into a pocket on his left side and pulled out a power cell and wedged it into the buffer's housing slot. The tech in his head was screaming at him for performing such an act; it was the absolute wrong thing to do. A buffer amplifier was designed to keep the power flow in check; the power cell added more juice to the system. Replacing the former with the latter would only and always end in disaster, exactly what Bao-Dur intended.

After hastily spot-welding the bare wires onto the cell, another process that went against everything Bao-Dur had learned as a tech, he picked up the wall panel and held up so T3 could weld it back in place. Once the droid finished, Bao-Dur back away and looked back down the long hall, surveying his work. Spaced along both walls every few meters were more rectangular outlines of similar dimensions to the one T3 had just finished welding. To any sentient being, the reason was as obvious as the traps concealed behind the walls, but Bao-Dur doubted the tukatas would not be as perceptive.

Bao-Dur activated his comlink. "We're done here."

"_Excellent_," came G0-T0's reply. "_The Miraluka will lead the tukatas to you._"

* * *

A young Sith acolyte stood silently in the greeting hall of the academy, flanked only by a pair of staff-wielding assassins. His instructions had been given to him directly from Lord Sion; he was to stand guard there and wait for the elite guard to return, which they would after dispatching the intruders that had landed on Korriban. That the elite guard might fail in their mission never even crossed the acolyte's mind. So secure in his thinking he was that he missed the mass of dark energy approaching him.

The acolyte nearly jumped out of his skin when his two bodyguards started making gagging noises and grasping desperately at their throats. Out of reflex he activated his red lightsaber, but his attention was wholly focused on the two writhing men beside him. Then movement in front of him caught his eye. He looked over in time to see a man who could have very well been an instructor of the former academy emerge from the shadowed corridor, his clenched fist held up in front of him. The man had a warrior's build: tall, muscular, and an almost military-regulation-length haircut. The black robes he wore, the markings on the sides of his face, and the sulfur hues in his eyes made him look like a Sith, and indeed through the Force he felt like a Sith. But even if that was true, the man was attacking them and therefore no ally of his master. This man must have been the intruder his lord had warned him about. The acolyte readied himself to engage the rogue, unafraid to fight, yet a little uncertain of his chance of success, given that the man must have defeated the elite guard to get this far.

Then a woman with white hair appeared on the tall man's right. Like the man, she held her closed fist up and was wrapped in the Dark Side, but unlike the man, she was shorter, smaller and garbed in silver and violet heavy armor. It took the acolyte a few seconds to recognize the armor as Echani in origin, which meant that the woman was just as dangerous as the man whom she flanked, likely her master.

The realization hit the acolyte half a heartbeat later; these two were the ones choking his bodyguards. He was about to engage them and force them to release his men when a third person appeared. No, he quickly discovered, not a person, a droid; a rust-colored combat droid of some kind wielding a pair of large pistols. Before the acolyte had a chance to respond to the newcomers, the droid opened fire with its pistols and burned holes through his bodyguards' foreheads, snuffing out their existences with a degree of mercilessness that rivaled his own master's. Only then did the other two others relinquish their Force grips and allow the bodies to collapse to the floor.

The tall man's sulfur eyes locked onto the acolyte's brown ones; the weight of his stare caused the acolyte to shrink ever so slightly. "I sense someone far more powerful nearby," he said in a dark, Coruscanti-accented voice. Strange though, he seemed to have a few Anaxi inflections, too. "Where is your master?"

The acolyte held his blade in front of him. "I would die before I betrayed my master to the likes of you."

Silas Carver cocked his head and cracked a half-grin. "So be it." He leaned forward and charged, drawing his lightsaber from his belt on his second step. He swung his blade in a wide diagonal arc, forcing the acolyte to dodge to his right. Carver spun to meet the acolyte's blade, stepped to his left, rose to his full height to apply more pressure against the young Sith. He held the acolyte in that position for a moment, just long enough for an arc of silver-white light to cleave the Sith's head from his body. Brianna stood smiling as the headless corpse in front of her crumpled to the ground. "Perfect timing, my love," said Carver.

"A pity he chose not to be more cooperative," said Brianna.

"Indeed," he replied. Carver turned around and scanned the corridors branching out from the room. "The question now is how to proceed?" Reaching into the Force, he sensed only darkness, an ambient cloud of darkness that blanketed and filled the entire academy. Carver knew Sion was somewhere within these walls, but the Sith Lord was hiding himself well.

"Observation: Master I am detecting no bio-signatures on my scanners," stated HK-47, "however, I must admit my scanning ability is limited due the unique composition of the surrounding architecture. Conjecture: I suspect I will be able to detect threats only when they enter a line-of-sight bearing."

"That will only give us a few moments of warning," said Brianna.

"That may be all we need," said Carver. He cast a backwards glance over at his assassin droid. "HK, how much of this place is still stored in your memory core?"

"Accessing," replied HK. "Answer: My map data of the academy is approximately 84.76 percent complete, Master, including locations of possible ambush sites and secret passages."

"Impressive," said Brianna. "How were you able to collect so much data?"

HK's head swiveled over towards her. "Explanation: I am a droid," he began, a hint of pride in his voice, "and as such I have the innate ability to render myself insignificant in the eyes of unassuming meatbags, despite my fear-inducing appearance. After all, how dangerous could an unarmed, walking piece of furniture possibly be?"

Brianna raised an eyebrow at the droid. "_You_ were unarmed?"

"Incredulous rebuttal: Of course not. What a ridiculous notion. _Me. Unarmed_. Really..."

"_HK_," called Carver, hoping to forestall another minutes-long ramble from his assassin droid, "where would the Sith hold their prisoners?"

It took the droid several nanoseconds to collect himself and analyze his data. "Answer: There are a number of possible locations, Master. The most obvious location is the detention block, but there are other places as well, including a student training center, where the Sith trainees honed their abilities against living targets, and the dormitories, which can be locked own on command. However, assuming all variables being equal, the detention block is the more likely location of the three."

"Then why not show us the way?" said Carver, gesturing for HK to proceed.

"Statement: As you wish, Master." HK turned and headed for the northwest corridor with Silas Carver and Brianna following a meter behind him.

* * *

Now was the time, Lonna Vash decided, to make her move. She had felt the death of the acolyte through the Force, as had the other Sith forces in the academy, and everyone was on high alert and scrambling for action. The irony was that the Sith's attention was now diverted to the dark newcomer, so all eyes were turned away from her. Ever since her capture she had made no attempts to break out or draw attention to herself. She had done such a good job of it that the Sith Lord seemed to be the only one who remembered she was there. And now even he was occupied by the new arrival, so Vash decided it was time to finally leave.

Drawing the Force into her palms, she unleashed a burst of Force energy that blew the door off its hinges. But before it could slam into the far wall, Vash caught it and gently set it down on the ground so it made no noise. She looked around to make sure she was alone, wrapped her emerald cloak tightly around her then dashed off into the shadows, which hopefully led to her freedom.

* * *

Jaq charged down the long hallway, dodging and parrying the incoming blasterfire with his double-blade. At the other end of the hall, a quartet of Sith soldiers was desperately laying down a barrage of plasma as if their lives depended on it, which, of course, it did. Word had spread quickly about a force of unstoppable raiders rampaging through the mansion, and after their crushing defeat in the dining hall, fear and panic began spreading just as quickly. That fear had gripped this group of soldiers, and it was making their aim sloppy.

Jaq, too, felt their fear, but it had the exact opposite effect on him. His mind was free of distraction, his objective clear, and his execution in progress. He sideslipped the latest volley of blasterfire, jumped, and kicked off the wall, using his momentum to carry him blade-first into the nearest soldier. As the Sith fell backward, Jaq powered forward, slicing his blade up through the Sith's torso in the process. With both feet on the ground, Jaq began rotating, falling into the familiar steps that had been drilled into him back on Dxun. He moved to box in the remaining trio, using his double-blade's wide range to restrict their freedom of movement. But the Sith soldiers would not be herded easily. In a remarkable display of timing and luck, two of the soldiers tucked and rolled away from him. Jaq turned on them and charged, deftly cleaving the head of the closest scrambling soldier. The screech of the lightsaber grabbed the attention of the other soldier, who turned around in time to watch the red blade drive into his chest and pin him against the wall.

Jaq was about to turn his blade on the final soldier when he heard the familiar growl of a discharging Mandalorian heavy repeater. He flinched instinctively as heat raced across the back of his neck; he did not need to see those shots to know they had come too close for his comfort. He looked to his right to find the fourth soldier lying on his back, chest smoking from fresh wounds. Jaq scowled. Insulting him was one thing, but stealing kills was beyond the pale. Mandalore was seriously pushing his luck.

"What do I keep telling you, Kath Hound?" yelled Mandalore from down the hall. Jaq looked up to find the Mandalorian and his pet marching towards him in perfect rhythm, rifle swinging gracefully at his side. Mira was just a few steps behind them. "Never take your eyes off your enemy! You may have gotten the three, but the one you missed was about to blow your brains out through your nose." The clan leader strode right past Jaq without giving him a chance to reply. "The next time you do something that stupid, I'll let him."

Jaq watched Mandalore head down the hall, silently mouthing a list of insults.

"Wow," said Mira, walking up next to him. "I don't know which war is the bigger: the one between us and the Sith or the one between you and him." She gave him a sideways glance. "You're losing, by the way."

Jaq kept his gaze on Mandalore until the clan leader made a right turn around a corner and disappeared. "I could just kill him. I could kill him right now and blame it on the Sith. Sy would never know."

Mira let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah right," she said, folding her arms in front of her. "You can't touch him, and you know it. You swore, remember? _We_ swore. And you're not that good a liar anymore."

Jaq's lips curled into a snarl. Early in their training on Dxun, Mandalore had been quick to assert his authority over his new trainees. After one torturous run that had been intercut with thirty-minute reps of every exercise Jaq had ever heard of, he decided to defy and challenge Mandalore. It had been a rash decision brought on by exhaustion and frustration, which ironically worked against him in their minutes-long skirmish. Mandalore roundly thumped him, used him as an example for the others, then ordered him back to the _Ebon Hawk_. That day ended with Silas giving them all a lecture.

"Mandalore was right about one thing," added Mira. "That guy did have you dead-to-rights."

Jaq gave her a surprised look. "You saw it?"

"Yeah," she answered with a nod. "And he was about to pull the trigger. Had Mandalore not shot first…"

"So you were just enjoying the show?"

"Hey, I was right with you until he told me to wait."

Jaq's brows furrowed. "Why the hell would he do that?"

Mira shrugged. "I don't know. Did it ever occur to you that maybe he's trying to actually help you?"

"How? By letting me get shot?"

"Maybe he wants yo-" Mira was cut off by the sounds of Jaq's communicator and distant blasterfire.

_"Kath Hound!"_ Mandalore's voice had an element to it neither Jaq nor Mira had heard before. He almost sounded worried.

Jaq and Mira took off down the hall. One right and left turn later, they found the strill lying prone on the floor, teeth bared, fur sticking straight out, and staring death into the room on the other side of the open door. Only when they moved in front of it did it acknowledge their arrival. Mandalore was engaging in close combat against a bladestaff-wielding, white-haired Sith warrior. Very close combat. Mandalore was constantly rolling and ducking around his opponent, who was wildly swinging his weapon in a desperate attempt to catch the wily Mandalorian. But Mandalore was so close to the Sith, he was actually inside of the warrior's kill zone. However, his proximity meant that Mandalore could no longer bring the lethal end of his weapon to bear either. They were stalemated until someone made a mistake.

"You need any help?" asked Jaq with an amused smirk.

"Jump in anytime," replied Mandalore.

The Sith warrior glanced over at the door and his eyes widened in surprise. "Hah! A Mandalorian, fighting alongside a couple of neophytes?" He threw up his arm to block the butt of Mandalore's assault rifle. "I don't know why you have chosen to come here, but you…" Pure malice spread on the Sith's scarred features as he locked eyes with Jaq. "_You_!" He shoved Mandalore backwards and charged for Jaq, who found himself alone when both Mira and the strill dove away from him for safety. He had barely enough time to activate his weapon and stop the Sith from decapitating him. The Sith pressed hard against Jaq's defense. "How dare you return to Sith space, Traitor."

Straining as he was, Jaq noticed something different about this Sith. The scars on the Sith's face were not all caused by the Dark Side's corruption, but by time as well. This Sith was old, experienced, a veteran. An all-too familiar feeling started bubbling up in Jaq's gut. "Who are you?" he asked between gritted teeth. "How could you know me?" He felt the Sith's temper flare.

"You have forgotten so easily?" With a surprising amount of strength for a man his age, the Sith shoved Jaq back a step, breaking their lock. But instead of lashing out with his weapon, he unleashed a wave of Force energy that sent him hurtling out of the room and through the locked wooden doors on the other side of the corridor, his momentum causing him to bounce and tumble backwards for several meters. The Sith grinned devilishly and was about to advance on his prey when new movement caught his attention.

Mira charged her opponent, lightsaber blazing, and began a wide horizontal slice. Seconds before impact, she heard Mandalore open up with his heavy repeating rifle. But it was all for naught. Not only did the Sith deftly brush aside her strike, but he then caught her in an aerial Force choke while deflecting Mandalore's shots with his bladestaff.

"Think before you act, Child," he said coolly before launching Mira at Mandalore, the impact slammed them both into the wall. The Sith casually rolled his head back over in Jaq's direction; Jaq was excising a piece of the door that had embedded itself in his left arm just below the shoulder. The Sith couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he advanced into the hallway.

Tossing away the bloodied wooden shard, Jaq dropped into a defensive stance, but he did not remain that way for long. The Sith hit him with another burst of Force energy that again knocked him flat on his back and sent him sliding into the far wall. Something wasn't making sense. This Sith seemed to hate him, almost on a personal level. But that seemed impossible; even as a Sith, Jaq and his fellow hunters tended to steer clear of the Force-users in Revan's army. The natural hatred they felt towards the Jedi often translated into enmity towards the Dark Jedi as well. Added to the fact that, as a group of assassins, their names and faces weren't widely known, how was it possible this Sith knew him? "Who are you?" Jaq asked again.

The Sith scowled and wordlessly pulled down the right side of his collar, revealing a bi-colored tattoo on his pectoral. It was the emblem of the Republic done in black set within a red crosshairs, and it was unique to one particular group within the Sith.

"I don't believe it," said Jaq, almost reverently. "You…you're one of the Fallen."

The Sith smiled balefully. "So, you are not completely ignorant of the past."

The Fallen were Revan's original followers, the survivors of Malachor V, and the first Jedi to join Revan's cause. Among the Sith, they were the elite of the elite, and rumor had it one of them would eventually replace Malak as Revan's apprentice. The Fallen were loyal to Revan, and Revan alone. They only grudgingly obeyed Malak for a short time before they formed their own faction within the Sith. Not surprisingly, Malak took many steps to eliminate them. Before he took over, he would send them on suicide missions; afterwards, he simply executed them. But apparently some of them managed to survive Malak's purge, and one of them was now staring Jaq down.

"Do you recognize me now,…_Knightfall One_?" asked the Fallen.

And the Fallen knew his old codename! Jaq's eyes widened with horror; there was only one Sith who knew that name: the one who oversaw the assassin project. The only one he ever directly reported to aside from Revan. In that moment, memories that had been long buried came bubbling up again, and the Sith's rigid jaw line and angular nose became much more familiar. "G-general Vadov?" Jaq was rewarded with a light chuckle.

"Very good, Jaq," replied Refale Vadov coolly. "You do remember."

Jaq gulped in fear, genuine fear. As a Jedi, Refale Vadov was a terror on the battlefield, but as a Sith, he was a ruthless, angry butcher. All these years later, Jaq could see Vadov had kept his anger; there was little doubt he was still a butcher as well. This was not a fight Jaq was going to win.

"For your crimes of treason against Lord Revan and the Sith," declared Vadov, pointing his bladestaff at Jaq, "today…you…die."

* * *

Despite his constant stream of reassurances, Bao-Dur was slowly losing the battle with his nerves. His role in the plan was largely over; the last thing he had to do was alert G0-T0 of the tukatas' arrival, but the actual waiting for the animals to show, hearing the echoes of their cries but not knowing from which direction they would come, dredged up more bad memories. That feeling of being exposed and vulnerable was still, after ten years, very fresh in his mind, and it was still physically affecting him just as it had ten years ago. He transferred his Mark III Tystel pistol to his artificial hand; his real one was shaking too much to be of any use. Of course the irony that the reason he had an artificial arm was because of an animal attack was not lost on him.

_It was just fifty-two standard hours after the battle over Malachor V. The fighting had ended, but the few remaining survivors were still coming to grips with the fact that they were in fact alive. No one in the fleet was celebrating the victory, the mood never really set in. Too many ships had been destroyed; too many friends had died. And grandiose victory parties and parades were things that civilians did anyway. Not twelve hours had passed and the Supreme Chancellor had already given three separate speeches. Meanwhile, the soldiers and officers in orbit over Malachor maintained a morbid discipline as they contemplated what they had just gone through. Essentially, they were all on autopilot for the time being, quietly following the orders of their superiors without question simply because they were too exhausted to think or do anything else. _

_Which was exactly why Bao-Dur found himself attached to a company of Republic marines onboard a shuttle bound for Malachor's ruined surface. The mission was simple enough. Officially, they were to conduct surface reconnaissance in the extremely unlikely event of locating survivors on the ruined planet's surface. Unofficially, their mission was to determine the status of the Mass Shadow Generator, and if necessary destroy any functional or recognizable components. The pilot of the shuttle seemed to be taking his time getting to the planet, and Bao-Dur could not blame him. Although they had been orbiting the dead planet for two days, no one had so much as looked at it since the battle ended. The ship captains had all rotated their ships so they faced away from the destroyed world. Only Revan's orders that they remain kept them all from jumping to the next system._

_The moment they hit the atmosphere, everyone knew it. The entire shuttle bucked when it hit a sudden burst of turbulence, throwing the cabin's occupants around like the pellets in a baby's rattle. After several minutes of sudden cross winds and hundred-meter drops, Bao-Dur, along with several others around him, had unceremoniously vomited on the floor. It was not a good omen; they had not even landed yet, and already things were off to a bad start. If nothing else, morale was falling as fast as their shuttle._

_"Touching down in five!" yelled the pilot from the cockpit, and Bao-Dur found himself torn. On the one hand, he would be thrilled to be free of all this turbulence, but on the other, he was about to set foot on the planet he had personally killed. He thought back to the cultures he had encountered during his expedition across the galaxy. Some of them believed their planet had a living spirit that nourished and protected them. Bao-Dur hoped that Malachor V was not among those planets, or if it did and was still alive, it did not hold a grudge._

A shrill warning from T3 brought Bao-Dur back to his full senses. He hated it when thought about Malachor, which was happening more and more often in recent months. However, whatever relief he might have felt towards the droid for breaking his mental wanderings was overshadowed by the fact that droid had issued an alarm.

"What is it?" he asked T3, who had already wheeled around and was rolling around the corner. Bao-Dur scrambled to his feet to follow the droid, but in his haste, one foot caught the back of the other, sending him stumbling into the wall of the crossing corridor. The impact was not painful, just embarrassing, and Bao-Dur was glad no one had been around to see his bout of clumsiness.

Then he looked down the hall that T3 was currently illuminating, and promply forgot about his two left feet.

"_Shab._"

Bao-Dur did not even catch that the first word out of his mouth had been Mandalorian; he was too preoccupied by the sight before him. The tukata pack was headed right for them, but from the _wrong direction_. G0-T0's plan had been for the predators to come at them from the far side of the hall, allowing Bao-Dur to spring the trap from a safe distance. But apparently the pack of fifteen-plus horned dogs must have missed that memo and were bearing down on him and T3 from the un-mined corridor.

Bao-Dur looked down the rigged hall then back at the approaching tukatas then at T3, who had turned around to face him. The droid had given him a fairly early warning, but even so, the pack would be on them in a matter of seconds. There was really only one viable option.

"We need to move," he told T3, "now." Together the pair took off down the rigged corridor, the barking of the tukatas now very audible in Bao-Dur's ears. As he ran, he made some quick calculations in his head. Had the tukatas entered the hall from the right way, Bao-Dur would have called G0-T0 to activate power to that section of the hall. He had initially placed himself so that the first detonation was nearest to him with the subsequent ones moving away. Now he was in the trap, meaning he would have to make the call just as the final tukata entered the kill zone but before any could leave it.

One they were halfway down the rigged section of the hall, Bao-Dur glanced over his shoulder and almost regretted it. The tukatas had already made it to the junction and were bearing down on them. With little options open to him, Bao-Dur activated his comlink. "G0-T0, turn on the power." It took him a few steps before he realized nothing had happened yet. "G0-T0, the tukatas are here; turn on the power!"

Still nothing.

He and T3 were rapidly approaching the edge of the killzone; the tukatas were approaching faster still.

"G0-T0!" he yelled, panic rising in his voice. What was going on? Was his comlink not working? "_G0-T0!_"

The lights above him flickered.

Then came the explosions. Unable to handle the sudden power spikes, the power cells detonated and blew open the wall, sending fire and metal exploding outward. That was another reason why Bao-Dur had chosen to wait at the intersection: cover from the flying shrapnel. But now he was in the line of fire, literally, with the roars of fireballs getting louder in his ears, so he did what most people would do in his situation: he jumped as hard as he could, landed flat on his stomach, covered his head, and hoped for the best. He tensed when he felt the air around him suddenly get much hotter.

It took Bao-Dur a few seconds to realize he was still alive. He was a little stiff from the dive he took, but he was alive. He rolled over on his back and propped himself up to check the damage done. The area had gone dark again, illuminated only by the dwindling fires. Bao-Dur could see gaping holes in the corridor walls caused by his makeshift bombs as well as the corpses of the tukatas that had fallen victim to them. The entire pack was dead, and for a moment he grieved for their deaths. Once again he was responsible for causing a slaughter. It was a life skill he was alarmingly proficient at, and he took no joy from it either. His moment came to an abrupt end when his comlink finally went off.

"_Iridonian_," came G0-T0's tinny voice, "_status report._"

"I'm okay," Bao-Dur replied. T3-M4 rolled up beside him and whistled. "So is T3."

"_What is the status of the tukata pack?_"

"They're dead. All of them."

"_Exactly as I had projected. You will also be pleased to know that I have successfully restored power the security room. We now have access to the Sith's datanet. Rendezvous at my location. _"

_At least something good came from this, _thought Bao-Dur. "Right." Then a thought occurred to him. "G0-T0, why didn't you acknowledge me when I first commed you?"

"_I calculated that, in your emotional state, you would give the detonation command prematurely, so I chose to wait until I registered a proper amount of distress in your voice before I triggered the power. Apparently, the probabilities played out as I had predicted._"

Surprise and anger, rare emotions for the Zabrak, started building up in Bao-Dur. G0-T0 had _planned_ this? "Did you also calculate the tukatas would come from the back way?"

"All_ possibilities factored into my calculations._" With that, the link went dead.

T3 let out a long, low tone.

"Yeah," replied Bao-Dur, putting away his comlink, "I don't think I trust him either."

The astromech whistled a question as Bao-Dur got to his feet.

"I think I'd be happier not knowing the answer to that," he said. He didn't like the thought of a droid intelligence factoring in the deaths of his allies as part of a plan. "Come on; let's head back. We've got a job to do."

* * *

Unlike the starport, the darkness that pervaded the lower levels of the academy was caused by more than just a lack of light. It clouded all senses, and Carver was finding it difficult to adjust to the ever-thickening blackness. It was not as if he was not having any success acclimating; it was simply not happening as fast as he would like. Were it not for his bond with Brianna, he would not have been able to keep track of her. Which was why HK-47 was on point: the droid was not affected by the dark and had a near-perfect map of the academy. That being said, Carver was still acutely apprehensive about their situation. Until further notice, he was blind and very uncomfortable.

No one spoke as they moved through the black halls of the academy. The only audible sounds were the rhythmic whirs of HK's leg motors, which still managed to create a modest echo despite HK's activation of his stealth protocols. At first Carver was sure the assassins would be drawn to the noise as if to a beacon, but they had been navigating the halls for a good twenty minutes now and had yet to be attacked. The set-up could not have been more perfect for a group of assassins but they did not strike. Even with his senses clouded, the picture was becoming clearer with each passing moment.

"They are letting us move freely," said Carver finally. No sooner had he uttered those words he felt a massive surge in the Force directly ahead. He braced himself for the inevitable impact, but it never came. Instead he heard the surprised cries of Brianna and HK. He twisted around and watched as the pair was hurled backwards through a doorway they had apparently stepped across. Wide-eyed, Carver marveled at the ferocity and control of the attack; it took a finesse and discipline to manipulate the Force in such a manner. The stone door slammed down behind him, leaving him alone with his hidden assailant. He double-checked the lightsabers on his belt, ensuring the quick-releases were still responding.

"You have come a long way for nothing," came a rumbling, echoing voice that Carver recognized in an instant. Carver turned back as the ambient darkness withdrew, allowing him to finally see and feel Sion standing in the center of the room. Having already encountered the Sith Lord on Peragus, the shock of his seemingly-broken body passed quickly, but Sion was still a gruesome sight to behold indeed. "Korriban is no place for one such as you."

Carver cleared his throat to find his voice. "And how would you define someone like me?"

Sion scoffed and started advancing on him. "You may have tossed aside the doctrine of the Jedi, but you still reek of their weakness. No, you are worse; you reek of _her_ weakness."

"Kreia," stated Carver. "How do you know her?"

Sion stood barely a meter away from Carver, using his towering frame as a form of intimidation. "I know her," he said, "as an apprentice knows a master, and as a master knows an apprentice. If you follow her path, you will share her fate."

"I am no more than you are, Sion," replied Carver, regaining his cool confidence. Even so, he had to play this carefully. Sion would not be nearly as forgiving as Zez Kai-El had been. One wrong move or word, he was dead. "And I refuse to be a pawn in her game."

Sion actually cracked a small grin and chuckled. "If you truly believe that, you are not only weak, but a fool. Such a choice is not yours to make. If you cannot see her machinations, you are as blind as she pretends to be."

This was starting to go in the wrong direction; Carver had to correct it quickly. "Whatever insights you have on her would certainly be appreciated, but that is a discussion for a later time. I sought you out today for a reason: I have a proposition for you."

Sion scoffed. "What could you possibly offer me that I cannot simply take?"

"You are hunting Jedi, are you not? I have information that will prove very useful in that endeavor."

Sion took a step forward. "Speak it."

There was something odd in the way Sion responded to Carver's bait; there seemed to be a lack of anticipation in his voice, but that could be his natural tone or he was just playing it cool. If the latter was the case, Carver could also play that game. "And give away my only leverage? That would not be a smart move for me."

"Nor would be testing my patience."

"Then I shall cut to the chase. You hunted me on Peragus because you were lead to believe I was still a Jedi. As you can see, this is not the case. However, there are Jedi in hiding across the galaxy. I have it on good authority that they will soon be gathering in one place. This is an opportunity that we should not miss. My forces alone are not yet ready to face an army of battle-hardened Jedi, but working together, they would stand no chance against us."

"You assume much, Exile."

Again Sion gave him an odd response. "Not as much as you think, Sion. I have been planning this op for a long while now, but I only have a few more weeks to finalize it. If you are not interested in aiding me, I can find other groups who are. I merely thought to ask the most capable first." A little bit of flattery often went far when dealing with the power-hungry; their egos were usually their weakest point. Carver held out his right hand, only half-sure Sion would take it.

Sion looked down at the offered hand for a moment, then back up at Carver. "You want me to help you finish off the Jedi? I have no need of anyone's help. The destruction of the Jedi Order is _my_ right alone."

Carver closed his eyes and exhaled. "So your answer is 'no.' A shame." In a flash, his lightsaber jumped from his belt to his outstretched hand and ignited. They were so close, Sion had no time to react as the red blade stabbed through his center of his chest. Sion barred his teeth as Carver felt him fade in the Force and his body went rigid, more rigid than Carver would have expected. So rigid, in fact, that Sion managed to stay upright as he died. It was something Carver had only heard of, but never seen. It was…odd. Carver held the blade steady for a minute until he felt Sion disappear completely. He then deactivated his blade and turned around. "I didn't want to share anyway."

Before he took his second step, something caught his left wrist in a powerful grip and wrenched him backward.

"A shame," came Sion's gruff baritone voice.

A boot slammed into Carver's back with such force that the arm caught in the Sith Lord's grip dislocated; the explosion of pain caught Carver completely off-guard and he could not hold back his surprised yelp. Sion then shoved him facedown onto the floor, still holding his dislocated arm in a vice grip.

"Do you think I am a fool?" asked Sion. "I know about the Jedi gathering on Dantooine, and now thanks to you, I know when that gathering will take place. You are of no further use to me."

Although trapped under Sion's heavy boot, Carver was more paralyzed from his own shock and confusion. _Impossible! I ran him through the heart! It's not possible! It's not _possible_!_

Sion let out a dark chuckle. "You sought to cause me pain, but you know nothing of it. Allow me to show you but a fraction of what I endure each day."

Carver felt a second hand grab his arm above the elbow, and he braced himself as best he could. He felt the snapping of bones radiating throughout his entire body but did not hear it, if only because the sound was drowned out by his own scream.

To be continued…

End Note- The next chapter: "Dark Reflections" We all know what the cave encounters are like for the Exile, so it is time for someone else to experience its traps. Post any comments or questions you may have on your way out.


	17. Echoes

Author's Note: Blast it; it's the Dxun arc all over again! This chapter was getting so long, I've had to split it up. Oh, well. Enjoy!

Chapter 17: Echoes

Jaq crashed into the floor with a grunt, now fully convinced that Refale Vadov had picked up a new hobby since the Jedi Civil War: sadism. The not-so-good-anymore general had been hurling him across the room like a rag doll for who knew how long. He could not even keep track of the number of times he had hit the floor or a wall. His head was spinning, his vision was blurry, his lightsaber was lost, Mira and Mandalore were nowhere to be found, and the only thing had his senses could register was the sound of Vadov's sporadic laughter. The old Sith was toying with him, but Jaq's mind was too clouded for him to focus and retaliate.

Then Jaq looked up and saw his lightsaber several meters in front of him. Just the sight of it cleared the fog I his mind for a moment. He scrambled for his weapon. He would get it; he was determined to get it. When he did get it, he might have a chance to strike back. It did not matter that he had no plan or strategy; the only thing that mattered was the chance. He reached out with the Force to pull it into his hand. The distance closed quickly between him and his beloved weapon. His fingertips actually touched the hilt.

The ground disappeared from under his feet. Jaq sailed backwards through the air, watching his lightsaber recede into the distance and with it, his hopes of survival. He did not have long to dwell on his loss, though, as a sudden impact against a wall sent a new wave of pain flowing through his body. The jarring impact made his head feel numb; it was getting harder and harder to remain conscious.

"I'm sorry," said Vadov, stepping into Jaq's failing vision. As he stood there, hand outstretched, he could not remember the last he felt so invigorated. His old eyes once again flared with the unbridled power of the Dark Side. "Did you want that?" Vadov let out a dark chuckle and closed his open fist.

With a start, Jaq felt the pressure against his chest increase, making it difficult for him to breathe. In that moment, panic swelled from within him, and he reflexively released a blast of Force energy that broke the hold Vadov had on him. He dropped to the floor as Vadov flew across the room. While adrenaline still flowed through him, Jaq scanned the room for his lightsaber. Locking onto the metal cylinder, he held his right hand out and called on the Force.

Pain unlike anything Jaq had ever felt before exploded from his left arm; the sudden onset locked up his throat so he could not even yell. Already exhausted and injured, his knees buckled as the waves of pain radiated out to every point of his body, and he crumpled to the floor. Jaq gripped his arm protectively as he succumbed to his phantom injury, but just before he blacked out, he could have sworn he heard another scream in the distance. _Mira?_

Vadov looked on from the other side of the room with a wary eye._ What trickery is this?_ After several seconds of studying his inert opponent, he cautiously made his across the room, keeping his bladestaff up and ready in case he detected signs of duplicity. But once he found himself standing over Jaq and still saw no signs of movement, Vadov was fairly certain he was not beholding a ruse; the traitor was indeed out cold. _Curious_. _Force-users do not collapse on a whim, and I did not cause this._ He suddenly recalled that the woman had, too, cried out in pain at nearly the same moment the traitor collapsed. _One is a coincidence,_ he thought,_ two is a trend._ Then a smile appeared on his face as an old memory popped into his mind. There was one other time when he witnessed someone feeling pain that was not being directly inflicted.

Back during the glory days, he had been attempting to forcibly relieve a Jedi and his Padawan of vital information about Republic supply routes, and the session had turned rather ugly. The pair ultimately died, but Vadov distinctly recalled the Padawan screaming as his master's fingers were broken-one by-one. It was not that far of a stretch to consider the possibility that the same phenomena had occurred just now. _But if that were true…_

Vadov started laughing as he looked down at the motionless Jaq. "So, you ran from one master right into the hands of another. Oh, this is too good to be true." He held his bladestaff up and carved a few victorious flourishes in the air. If there was anything disappointing about this finale, it was that the traitor would not be awake to see his last moments. _But one does not always get what one wants._ "When I tell your master who you really were," he said to Jaq, "I am sure he will thank me for saving him time and effort. No need to waste such precious things on one so worthless as you." He raised his weapon high over his head and started to plunge downward.

The sound of an activating lightsaber stopped Vadov cold, not out of fear but curiosity. He furrowed his brow, detecting only a faint aura of danger through the Force. He could feel the woman's distant presence building but still very weak, so his guess as to who was currently behind him was a simple one. "Put that thing down, Mandalorian," said Vadov, not even bothering to look behind him, "before you get yourself hurt."

"Before you kill him," said Mandalore, holding up Mira's pistolsaber, "answer me this: how many Jedi does it take to destroy the galaxy?"

Vadov did a take and finally looked back at Mandalore. He could have sworn he misheard the armored man. But in case he hadn't, "Twelve," he answered cautiously.

Mandalore chuckled but did not drop his guard. "Just enough to make indecision a policy," he finished.

Vadov's mouth dropped open in amazement. "Where did you hear that?" That quip was one Revan used to tell back during the wars, one that he told only to his inner circle.

"There's a lot more going on than you realize," replied Mandalore. He gestured at Jaq. "And _he's_ part of it. It's in your best interest to leave him alive."

Vadov scoffed. "This scum has no worth. Revan would kill him without so much as a second's thought."

"The _old_ Revan, maybe. But not the one I knew."

"If he is still alive, then the rumors are true, and he is nothing but a shadow of his former self."

"I think Malak might disagree with you on that."

Vadov bristled at the name of Revan's late usurper apprentice but did not reply.

"You're still loyal to him, aren't you?" Mandalore plied.

"_If_ he is alive."

"He is." Mandalore again gestured at the prone Jaq. "And he's going to find him."

Vadov looked down at Jaq and ran his hand through his white hair, doubt and reason battling in his mind. Finally he decided with a heavy exhale. "Very well, Mandalorian." But he was not done with Jaq yet. He deactivated his lightsaber and knelt down. With one of the sharp hooks on the ends of his hilt, he carved a thin bloody line on the right side of Jaq's face starting from the top of his cheek to above and behind his ear. It would remind Jaq that he had a debt to pay. Vadov then rose and strode towards Mandalore. "You had best make certain he is prepared for what is to come," he said as he marched past. "If he is not, I will come after you as well." He then disappeared around the corner.

Mandalore sighed in relief and deactivated the pistolsaber. That had been too close for comfort.

"Can I have it back now?" asked Mira from behind him.

"Sure," he replied, tossing the weapon over his shoulder. "Don't know how you hold that thing; the grip's too small."

Mira caught the lightsaber with the Force and called it to her hand. "Not for me, old man," she quipped as she clipped it to her belt. "What was all that about, anyway?"

"Ancient history, little girl," he answered, sounding somewhat detached. "Ancient history." He walked over to Jaq and squatted down. "Hey, Kath Hound." He tapped the back of Jaq's head twice with two fingers. "Kath Hound, you in there?" He hit a little harder. "Kath Hound!" He hit a little harder again.

"I don't think that's going to work," said Mira.

"Yeah maybe," replied Mandalore. Then he was struck with a flash of brilliance. "_K'olar, Prud'ika!_" Moments later, the strill came scampering into the room, eager to rejoin its master's side. After giving his pet a few rubs on the head, Mandalore snapped his gloved fingers and pointed at Jaq, a command the strill immediately recognized and obeyed. Its massive tongue trekked across Jaq's face, leaving behind a thick glistening coat of drool. The effect was immediate; Jaq furrowed his brows and let out a low groan that could have either been out of disgust or pain or both. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Kath Hound," said Mandalore.

Jaq groaned again as he struggled to sit up. "Would you stop calling me that?" he asked weakly, wiping his face.

"There are worse names in the galaxy," Mandalore answered as he pulled Jaq's arm over his shoulder. "Come on; up you go." With Jaq's limited help, the pair slowly rose to their feet.

Although winded, in agony, and very disoriented, there was one detail that was impossible for Jaq to miss. "Where's…where's Vadov?"

"Ask me that again later," replied Mandalore as he helped Jaq limp forward. "Right now, let's get you back to the ship."

Now that the immediate danger had passed, Jaq was free to start a self-diagnosis, but he found himself unable to concentrate on his physical injuries. He was distracted; he could not shake the deep-seated feeling of dread lodged within his gut. Something was wrong, and it was connected to whatever had hit his arm. He glanced over at Mira; despite her attempt at composure, Jaq could see through the cracks in her expression. She was feeling it too, meaning it was not just him. That little revelation lead to a greater one: the one person they had in common was in danger. "Sy," he quietly mumbled. He knew he should have gone to the academy. Coming to the city had been a near-fatal waste of time. He would have objected had Silas' decision not been delivered with such finality. After all, it was his place as an apprentice to be at his teacher's side, his…master's side. The only thing he could do was hope Silas made it out alive, and he hated it.

* * *

Kreia felt it too. Meditating in the dark of the Ebon Hawk's port crew quarters, she became acutely aware of a torrent of violent, raw emotions rolling through the Force. She did not try to resist these oncoming waves. Instead, she let her consciousness be carried away by the currents as she delved deeper into the Force to confirm what her instincts were already telling her. The whispers of the Force grew steadily louder in her mind's ear, and she absent-mindedly rubbed her left arm. If the whispers were to be believed, she would have to intervene to save her apprentice.

A scowl formed on Kreia's lips as she sat meditating; she had hoped it would not come to this, but it seemed that her hopes meant nothing against the impetuousness of youth. She shifted her base of focus and gathered her willpower. Her task would not be a simple one.

* * *

Brianna felt it too. Already dazed by the Force wave that had thrown her into the previous room, the sudden onset of pain hit her with the force of a Tier 9 Hammer Cross to the head. Only her excellent conditioning kept her from succumbing to the pain. Taking a page from Silas' book, she channeled her pain and turned it into a strength to draw on. The effect was immediate: her mind cleared and her instincts kicked in. She ripped her lightsaber hilt from her belt and charged for the sealed door, intent on reducing it to pieces. She would not allow this barrier to keep her separated from her injured love.

"Wait!" echoed a woman's voice.

The command, reinforced and amplified by the Force, reverberated in Brianna's head. While she would not fall prey to weak-minded tricks, the Force told her that this voice was one of wisdom and ought to be heeded nonetheless. It was enough to stop Brianna in her tracks.

Out of the shadows stepped Lonna Vash, concealed under an emerald cloak and doing her best to maintain the composure and the air of a Jedi Master despite the fact she was favoring an ankle at the moment. She pulled back her hood, revealing slightly disheveled graying hair. Her lips were drawn into a tight thin line, and her dark brown eyes betrayed her wariness and caution as they jumped between Brianna and HK. There was little about the Jedi that gave Brianna the impression that Vash was in any way "soft" as Atris had described her.

"Rushing the door like that will do more harm than good," Vash continued.

Brianna lowered her weapon as she regained her calm. HK-47 on the other hand…

"Primary target acquired," declared the droid, drawing both blasters and leveling them at the Jedi. "Female human, Lonna Vash. Mission: terminate."

A burst of panic shot through Brianna. In an instant, she was in front of the droid, doing her best to keep her small frame in HK's line of fire. "Stand down," she ordered. HK did not fire, but did not lower his pistols either. Brianna felt a burst of anxiety coming from Vash; the Jedi was making a move for her own weapon. "Don't," Brianna warned her.

"I am not here to fight," said Vash, keeping both eyes on HK and her hand close to her saber hilt.

"HK, put your guns down," Brianna repeated. Her nervousness was growing. From what Silas told her about the droid, he was capable of making and analyzing millions of decisions in an instant; the fact that he had not yet chosen to drop his pistols was potentially troublesome. "This is not what Silas wants," she added, hoping that the mentioning the name of his master would somehow sway him.

HK's head turned to face her square in the eyes. "Objection: You do not speak for the master, Consort," HK countered sharply.

Brianna put her free hand over the muzzle of one of HK's pistols. "Would he approve of you shooting her if it meant harming me as well?" She had no time for this. Silas was in trouble, and the longer they took to get to him, the worse he was going to be.

HK let out an audible hiss, his version of a human sigh. "Resigned answer: No, his emotional attachment to you would override his desire to achieve his goal." HK finally lowered his blasters. "It is a glaring weakness," he warned her.

Brianna was unwilling to start this debate now, so she let HK's comment pass. Nevertheless, she gave him a sharp, unmistakable glare. "Contact the others," she told him. "Tell them to get back to the ship and prepare the medical bay. Silas will need immediate care."

HK's finely-tuned sensors picked up Brianna's signals, both the verbal ones and the non-verbal ones. "Acknowledgement: Very well, Consort," he said with some degree of disappointment in his voice. He turned and walked away to find a better signal to use to broadcast.

As HK retreated, Brianna turned to face Vash. "Forgive him," she said, trying to sound as remorseful as possible, "he is very…impulsive…for a droid."

Vash gave no reply to Brianna, choosing instead to amble over to the door that isolated them from Silas. "The trigger mechanism for his door," she stated, "is activated in the same manner as the one that allowed you to enter the academy." She placed her hand against its surface and closed her eyes. "Be ready."

* * *

Visas felt it too. As one who lived so deeply in the Force as she did, the Miraluka was highly sensitive to ripples in the Force. What broke upon her mind, however, was not a mere ripple. As she watched over Bao-Dur and the droids as they carried out their tasks, a tidal wave of pain and emotion slammed into her. With a sharp cry, she gripped her head with her hands in a vain attempt to relieve the mental pressure and backpedal against the wall. Visas' mental training, lessons learned at an early age to help Miralukas deal with the fickle ebbs and flows of Force currents, immediately kicked in, and her mind began compartmentalizing the sensations to reduce their impact, make them more bearable to endure. Once the wave passed, she began analyzing the sensations that she had sectioned off to determine the origin and nature of its source. Visas accomplished all of this in the time it took her to slide down the wall to her knees.

Meanwhile Visas' outburst caught Bao-Dur's attention. He bolted from his chair and knelt down in front of her. "What happened?" he asked, placing his hands on her shaking shoulders.

"Milord," she replied almost breathlessly, "he is in danger."

"The General?" He received a nod from Visas. Panic started rising within him, and he looked over at the droids. "T3, G0-T0, forget your selective searching. Just download as much of the archive as you can. And hurry." T3 whistled an affirmation.

"No! We must go to him!" said Visas, grabbing Bao-Dur's arms. "Now!"

Bao-Dur was rendered speechless; he did not have the heart to tell Visas there was no way they could reach the General in time to be of any help to him. Not to mention the fact that whatever hit her had reduced her to a quivering wreck. She might need assistance just to move. Then comlink went off.

"_Clipped greeting: Meatbag."_

_HK_, thought Bao-Dur. "HK, what happened to the General?"

"_Statement: The Master has been severely wounded and requires immediate extraction. Command: You are to return to the ship and land it in the valley on the far side of the academy. We will meet you there."_

Bao-Dur felt a flash of panic."Do the others know? Have they made it back?"

"_Answer: I will contact and alert the others, but if you arrive before they do, you are not to wait for them. The Master's life supersedes theirs. HK-47 out." _With that, the transmission ended.

"Come on," Bao-Dur said to Visas as he helped her to her feet, "let's get back to the ship." He then turned to the droid. "Unplug, guys; we're leaving."

"The data transfer is only 78.4% complete," countered G0-T0.

"It'll have to do," Bao-Dur replied. "We need to leave, _now_."

When G0-T0 hesitated to unplug, T3-M4 rolled around the droid, let out a demanding whistle, and repeatedly crashed into the spherical droid, forcibly pushing him away from the console. Before G0-T0 had a chance to respond, T3 wheeled around and rolled away, whistling raspberry as he headed for the door.

G0-T0's repulsors warbled loudly. "That rolling scrap pile bent my computer probe," he stated indignantly.

"I'll fix it later," replied Bao-Dur curtly as the droid floated past. He looked at Visas, still firmly in his arms. "Are you all right?"

Visas gave him a pained smile. "The worst has past. You can let go now."

"It's okay to accept help, you know," he said as he reluctantly complied.

"Some burdens are not meant to be shared," Visas countered quietly. "Thank you though," she added as an afterthought before heading after the droids.

Bao-Dur could not tell if he was stung or just disappointed by Visas' words. Either way, she managed to root him in place for several seconds before he finally decided to catch up.

* * *

Darth Sion was disappointed. The Exile had failed even Sion's low expectations of him. The Exile lay face-down and unconscious at his feet after experiencing only a minor lesson in pain. Sion paced around the Exile, casting scornful eyes down at the motionless body, and tried to summon up enough anger to allow him to finish off this pathetic creature. But none came. All he felt was disappointment and disgust. It was as close to anger as he could come. This weakling was simply not worth the effort. So what was he to do?

Sion hooked his foot under the Exile's torso and rolled him onto his back, his head rolled over to face away from the Sith Lord.

"Weak," Sion muttered to himself. How could his old master possibly choose _this_ to be her new apprentice? Why could she not just crawl under a rock in some dark corner of the galaxy and die quietly? Why did she have to return, and _why_ did she have to send _him_ to be her herald? "Are you the best she could do?" He let out a snarl and kicked the Exile hard in the ribs. "_Are you_?"

His anger had finally come. He grabbed the lightsaber from his belt and activated it. He was not going to kill the Exile solely to put him out of his misery; he was not worthy of a quick death. No, Sion would kill the Exile to punish _her_; to destroy her hopes, her dreams, her reasons for living. He would make her beg for death and then grant her a bloody release.

Sion held his blade horizontal above his head. "It shall begin with you." She would feel the Exile's death, and Sion would revel in her pain.

A rumble coming from the door caught his attention. He looked up in time to see a flash of white streaking toward him. He brought his blade down into a horizontal swing that collided with the incoming lightsaber. In the glow of the two weapons he could make out the figure holding the white blade: a small-framed, white-haired woman with a rather intense gaze.

"I will not let you harm him," declared Brianna.

The woman's emotions were an open book to Sion. She wore her love for the Exile on her shoulder, but her anger had yet to fully mature. Sion let out a dark chuckle. "You are in no position to stop me."

"You assume much," she replied.

At that moment, Sion detected Lonna Vash entering the fray. He shoved Brianna back and bashed away Vash's green blade with a heavy swing. "So the rat broke out of its cage," he snarled. He let his anger strengthen him; he would show these wannabes the true meaning of power.

Sion charged them head on without fear and swung his blade in a wide horizontal arc to split the pair apart. As Brianna cartwheeled out of the way, she pivoted on her palm, sending her armored boot crashing into the Sith's stomach. Instead of recoiling from being struck in the kidney as she expected him to, Sion grabbed her foot and swung her around into the recovering Vash. Not wasting the momentum, however, Brianna back flipped to her feet and charged again.

Sion readied himself for the armored woman's next assault, his eyes tracking her illuminated figure with ease. Then her lightsaber went out, and she vanished into the darkness. But he did not have time to look for her as Vash was approaching. Sion lashed out with a crosscut to sever her head, but Vash ducked low and swung to cleave his ankles. Before the blade got too close, Sion back flipped away, carving a loop with his lightsaber that forced Vash to roll to her side to avoid being bisected. When Sion was back on his feet, he took a moment to scan for the woman who had disappeared. He had to find her before-

The searing burn of cold metal against flesh traveled down the length of his spine. Sion let out a growl of agony and spun on his heels but still found nothing. He bared his teeth; the white-haired woman had a second weapon, a vibroblade, and she knew how to use it. A lesser warrior would not have survived that blow, but he was the Lord of Pain, and he would not be felled by such methods.

Again he was forced to deal with the distraction that was the oncoming Lonna Vash. He parried her first blow as he turned to face her, sending both weapons out wide, and elbowed her in the cheek. Her vision blurred for a moment, and she felt the pressure against her lightsaber vanish. She quickly spun her blade in a circle in her palm, letting Sion's horizontal slice bounce up and off her rotating blade. The parry also gave her an opening. In a quick move, she cut an arc across Sion's bare chest. The Sith Lord howled in rage, but instead of recoiling from the injury as she expected him to, he sent his knee into her gut. Stars dotted Vash's vision, then she was sent flying when Sion landed a spin kick to her side.

Sion vaulted after her, angling his blade to pierce her heart, but Vash rolled to her feet just before he landed. Sion buried his blade to the hilt, giving her another opening to slash at his shoulder. Sion winced, ripped his blade free, and charged Vash like a raging demon. His blows came heavy and fast, forcing Vash to give more and more ground as she struggled to fend off his renewed assault.

Then Sion abruptly rammed Vash with his shoulder, knocking her back a meter, and froze. She watched his face twist and contort with even more rage, and Vash could not help but wonder what kind of life the Sith lived to have so much anger in his heart. If he even had one. Then she saw what had caused his latest spike: a downward-pointing vibrosword piercing his torso. Brianna had struck again. She had been trying to cut his head, but when he slammed into Vash, Brianna missed her mark.

"EEEENOUGH!" roared Sion. He unleashed a fierce blast of Force energy that sent Vash, Brianna, and the blade buried in him flying into the darkness. Having reached the end of his patience, Sion threw his free hand out in Vash's direction, and a large tendril of purple-white energy leapt from his fingers towards the Jedi. The sweet music that was Vash's screams filled his ears as he ripped the life from her. This was not his favorite method for killing Jedi, but he no longer cared. Sion just wanted them all to die.

Brianna's ears were ringing as she picked herself up off the floor. She had lost her vibrosword in the Sith's attack, but fortunately she still had her lightsaber. With a start, she realized the ringing she was hearing wasn't ringing; they were cries of pain coming from Master Vash. The bright purple tendril made locating Sion simple, so she drew her saber and charged.

While reveling in draining the life from Vash, Sion caught sight of the armored woman coming at him with her white blade. He successfully parried her first strike to his midsection but was forced to break his attack on Vash when the woman slipped behind him. Sion whirled around him a delivered a heavy crosscut which the woman let slide up her blade. She used the momentum of his own attack to quickly spin around and send her lightsaber sailing for his knees. Sion vaulted over the attack, and at the apex of his jump, the woman did the same. She sailed above him and landed behind him, but Sion managed to block her slice by angling his blade over behind his back.

In the glow of the two lightsabers, Brianna could see the damage she had caused with her vibroblades, and she found herself in disbelief. The deep gash she cut along his back was open and visible, but it did not bleed. Nor did the hole she bore into his chest. It was not physically possible. Every blow she had landed thus far would have killed anyone else. Even her kick to his kidney should have at least slowed him down.

In her moment of shock she hesitated, allowing Sion to pivot around and shove her lightsaber out to the side. He reversed the direction of his blade to decapitate her, but she managed to roll away. Coming to her feet, she moved to sever his arm, but Sion blocked by twisting his hand around at a rather uncomfortable angle. Not waiting for Sion's counterattack, Brianna vaulted over him, landed and struck with her blade. Again Sion blocked her, and again she jumped to a new position to attack.

Sion was growing increasingly frustrated by the woman, who could not possibly be anything other than an Echani given the way she moved, as she danced around him. Her speed was remarkable and her attack patterns were just random enough to leave him guessing. Her swings came in high, low, and everywhere in between, but she only struck once before moving. She would not allow him to attack; she knew his blows would overwhelm her. He had to credit her intelligence, but he was tired of her games. He tracked her latest jump, and before she landed, he wrapped the Force around her throat and held her in mid-air.

"You are young to the Force," he said as watched her struggle against his mental grip, "and you understand little of its nature. Now you will experience the true power of the dark AGHH-" Sion's words were cut short by a pair of blaster shots to the side of his face. He reflexively dropped Brianna and turned his attention in the direction from which the shots had come. He found a droid standing in the doorway wielding a pair of Mandalorian pistols, a droid that looked somewhat familiar.

"Warning: The consort is the property of the master," declared HK-47. "You are not allowed to damage her."

Sion's temper flared. "I grow tired of all of your-AAGHHH!" His hands flew to his head as another attack hit him, but this time it was not a physical one. Someone was drilling into his mind with the Force.

"_Sion!"_

Sion recognized that voice in an instant. _Kreia! Get out of my mind!_

An infinite string of thoughts, all of it in Kreia's voice, poured into Sion's mind, blocking out every one of his own. _"…Sion! Can you hear me-Can you hear me?Sion! You're more of a fool than I thought-Such a disappointment-SION!Mongrel betrayer-Is this your power?Nothing but a failure-Sion!Sion?How could you-The one who showed you the way-who gave you a path-could not even dispose of me-Fool-More of a fool than I thought…"_

Sion screamed in anger and pain, and in a vain hope to stop the mental assault, he banged his head against the wall. "Get out of MY HEAD!"

Brianna stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the display taking place in front of her. She could not believe what she was seeing; the Sith Lord was losing his sanity right before her eyes. She scrambled away from Sion as he continued his apparent self-destruction, unaware as to the nature of her savior, but thankful for it nonetheless. Now she had to get to Silas and Vash before Sion somehow recovered.

Meanwhile Kreia's mental assault on Sion's mind continued. _"…You cannot stop me-You fool-More of a fool than I thought-SION!Can you hear me?You could never defeat me-Not truly-Not from where I am…"_

Sion had lost himself in the pain of Kreia's barrage. The damage he had done to the wall was considerable, but so was the damage he was doing to himself. He was seeing spots and starting to stumble, unable to fully control his balance. He had to stop her; the only thing that mattered was stopping her. "Where ever you are, woman, I will find you and tear you limb from limb!"

"…_You cannot stop me-You cannot even find me-You will never find me-Not here-Never here-Not at Malachor…"_

With a start, Sion realized Kreia had overplayed her hand; she had just given herself away. He knew where to find her at last.

"…_Malachor…"_

Sion desperately latched onto that precious thought, unwilling to risk forgetting it in the midst of Kreia's other thoughts, and dashed out of the room at full tilt. He would go to Malachor, walk there if he had to, and put an end to Kreia once and for all. He became so obsessed with this one directive that he did not notice that Kreia had slowly withdrawn from his mind, even as he left the academy, boarded his ship, and jumped into hyperspace.

Brianna heard the Sion's thunderous exit, but did not dare tempt fate and look back to confirm it. She found Lonna Vash lying motionless at a corner of the room. Only her erratic breathing told Brianna the Jedi Master was still alive. But she could feel that life fading quickly.

Brianna knelt down next to her and tried to gently rouse her. "Master Vash?"

Soft light reflected off Lonna Vash's eyes when she finally opened them. When she noticed Brianna, her lips curled into a smile. When she spoke, her voice came soft and weak. "The Exile…was…our mistake," she told Brianna. Vash tried to lift her hand but did not have the strength. "You…you can…save him…from the…from the dark."

Brianna held her tongue for what she could tell were Vash's last words. A part of her was unsure how to respond or if she even wanted to. She could not bring herself to tell the dying woman that she was willingly and gratefully following Silas' path. So she took another page from his book and allowed her to cling to her illusion of hope. After trying to help her save Silas from Sion, Vash earned the right to die in peace.

"The droid…is right," Vash continued. "You…are the one…who can bring…him…back…" With those words, the light behind Lonna Vash's eyes faded, and the Jedi Master was no more.

Brianna exhaled and stood up, trying her best to not commit Vash's words to memory. Whatever gratitude she had felt for the Jedi Master was over, and she refused to be used as a means to divert Silas from the path he had chosen. It was the same respect he had shown her all those months ago. Still, after witnessing what had transpired with Sion, she could not help but wonder would that be Silas' fate as well if he stayed down his path? _No,_ she resolved. _Silas would not want to become some mad brute. I can, _we can,_ avoid that fate, together._

Brianna found HK standing over Silas' unconscious form, his photoreceptors scanning over the body. "Diagnostic: The master has sustained significant damage," HK reported, "but he is still functional. His injuries are most intriguing."

She furrowed her brows. "What do you mean 'intriguing'?" She looked down at Silas' body. In the dark, she could just barely make out the slow rise and fall of his chest. She could see his black robe dotted with blood and the unnatural angle his left arm was bent at. His head was on its side, turned away from her as if he was ashamed for her to see him like this. She knelt down and took his right hand.

HK kept his photoreceptors trained on his master's body. "Answer: Apart from the blunt force trauma he incurred to his cranium and major organ centers resulting in his incapacitation, the only area of severe damage is his left arm. However, I am detecting multiple fractures across his skeletal structure."

She held Silas' hand tight as he anger welled up within her. "Sion's doing."

"Affirmation: Correct, Consort. The intriguing aspect of these injuries is none of them indicate lethal intentions on the attacker's part."

"What?" she asked, looking up at the droid.

HK finally looked at Brianna. "Clarification: The Sith Lord was not attempting to kill the master; the goal was to achieve maximum stimulation to his nervous system."

"I will make him pay for this."

"Advisement: We must get the master back to the _Ebon Hawk,_ and we must do so carefully. The master's state is precarious, and he cannot afford further injury."

Brianna gradually collected herself and stood up. "Should we wait for the others to help move him?"

"Answer: The sooner we can get him to the medical bay, the greater his odds for survival. You must move him, now."

Brianna looked at HK as if he had started speaking Huttese. "I cannot carry him, not without injuring him further."

"Quick clarification: Your telekinetic abilities should be sufficient for this task, Consort. As much as it pains me to admit it, you are his only hope."

Brianna had never lifted anything for as long as it would take to get Silas to the surface. She started to voice her doubts again when she realized there was no real choice for her. She had to do it. She steeled her resolve and nodded. Holding out both hands, she carefully wrapped Silas in the Force and lifted him off the ground, keeping his body as rigid as possible. "HK," she said in a serious tone, "not...a..._word_ from you unless absolutely necessary. Understand?"

"Acknowledgement: Understood, Consort. I shall take point."

As HK advanced ahead of her, Brianna maneuvered around so she stood at Silas' head. This way she could seek an eye on him and where she was going. She looked down at Silas one last time and centered herself in preparation for her task. With a gentle push, she began her steady trek back to the surface.

* * *

To Brianna's credit, she made it all the way to the greeting hall before her concentration reached its breaking point, forcing her to set down Silas' body. She fell back on her haunches, breathless, hands shaking, and unable to go any further for the moment.

"Statement: We have not yet reached our destination, Consort," said HK, returning from his advanced position. "We must continue on."

"I need…a minute,…droid," countered Brianna. She shifted into a sitting position to better collect herself.

"Objection: We do not have a minute," countered HK. "The longer we remain here, the longer it will take for the master to be treated for his injuries, and we may still be under threat of ambush by Sith minions. My sensors are still being impeded by the academy's architecture."

Brianna tuned out the rest of HK's rantings; the droid was not helping matters. She willed her breathing to slow and her strength to return while also denying the desire to forcibly silence HK a chance to take root. The latter became more and more difficult as the seconds ticked by. She turned her attention to Silas and noticed above all his injuries a stray bang that had fallen down when she set him on the ground. Gently she took two fingers and brushed it back into place. The simple touch garnered an instant reaction from Silas, though not a physical one. Through the Force she felt his presence, a small pyre fighting to stay lit in cold darkness, reaching out to her. Brianna took strength from his struggle; if Silas was not going to give up, then blast it, neither was she. She found a new well of energy to tap as she stood up and wrapped Silas' body in the Force again. This time, she was determined to make it all the way to the ship.

By the time Brianna and HK-47 made it to the Valley of the Dark Lords and the _Ebon Hawk_, Brianna could feel her body going numb just due to the magnitude of her exertions of keeping Silas' body aloft. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and every muscle she had ached, but she refused to stop. Thankfully, HK had comed the ship ahead of time, so before she had a chance to succumb, Mandalore and Visas rushed out to meet them. With Brianna on the verge of collapse, the Miraluka deftly took ahold of Silas' floating body and turned back for the ship. Finally relieved of her burden, Brianna felt her consciousness slipping, and she fell into Mandalore's waiting armored hands. The last things she felt were her feet leaving the ground and Silas' warm presence in her mind thanking her for saving his life.

to be continued...

End Note: Questions, comments, concerns, or criticisms? Leave 'em on your way out.


	18. Dark Reflections

Author's Note: I have returned once more to bring you my longest chapter yet. We are well into the second act of the story, and the deviations are only going to pick up from here. So I thought I'd start with one of the memorable moments from KOTOR II. Enjoy.

18. Dark Reflections

"Do you know why we have called you here?" So, not even age could dull Master Vrook Lamar's contemptuous nature it seemed. Some things never changed; it was another example of just how insular the Jedi had become, how out of touch they were with the rest of the galaxy.

"I came," replied Silas Carver in a weary tone, "because I _chose_ to come, not because you _summoned_ me." He stood in the center of the Council Chamber, surrounded by a dozen Jedi Masters. He could read their disapproval on their faces even with half-open eyes, but he could not bring himself to care. He simply did not have the energy to spare.

"Either way, you are here," said Master Kavar, the golden light of Coruscant's sunset illuminating his face. That same light, however, cast Silas in shadow, making him resemble more of a creature of darkness than a Jedi. The dark rings around his eyes certainly were not helping the matter. "You have come full-circle."

"Or have you?" interjected Master Atris. "Is Revan still your master, or has Malachor V finally taught you the lesson of obeying the wisdom of the Jedi Council?"

Silas gave her a warning glare. She had no idea of what she was speaking and only served to dishonor the memory of those who had died. "What I did I did for the Republic, not for Revan, and I am certainly not here right now for _you_." That last word might have had more venom in it than he intended, but such verbal missteps were to be expected after going nine days without any sleep. He saw Atris puff herself up in reaction to his words; the Jedi historian did not like to be challenged, it seemed.

"Why did you defy us, Silas?" asked Master Zez Kai-Ell, preempting Atris' next verbal salvo. "Going to war went against everything the Jedi stood for. All we had asked for was patience."

_Not you too, Master Kai-Ell_, thought Silas. Losing Kai-Ell stung; it meant the no one on the council would advocate for him. The other Masters in the room had thus far remained silent as was customary. Silas knew none of them; they were here as witnesses only. For a moment he considered the possibility that this might just be a dream, that he had finally succumbed to his exhaustion again and collapsed somewhere. But that, he figured, was impossible because the only thing he dreamed about in recent days was Malachor, which was why he refused to sleep. He hated sleep. These days, rest was not a voluntary choice for him. Every waking moment was spent moving; he relied on exercise, sheer will, stimulants, and supplements to keep him going for as long as physically possible. However despite his best efforts, there was still a limit on how long the human body could endure before it had to rest. His longest waking stint had been ten days, but predictably, as he was jogging down some random hallway, his body simply shut down and toppled to the floor.

The dream started immediately. Silas heard the screams of millions of men, women, Jedi, Mandalorians, soldiers, officers, engineers, pilots, and cooks all dying at once. Behind their tormented cries were the savage groans of metal being twisted and ripped apart by gravitational forces and the dizzying feeling of his ship spinning out of control. All the while, the ruined planet of Malachor dominated his vision, never wavering from the center of his sight, no matter which way he turned. Closing his eyes did not help, as the planet was in his mind's eye as well. He was forced to watch as it slowly cracked and shattered, and as he did, pain would well up inside him, a crescendo of agony that refused to abate while he was in his dream state. Eventually his own screams were added to this cacophony of terror. Again and again he would cry out for forgiveness or for death, but no one would grant him either. After an eternity of suffering, when the pain became so intense he thought he would finally die from it, the dream would abruptly end, and he would find himself yelling and thrashing about in some medical bay.

Silas never answered any of the doctors' questions, they would never understand, and the psychiatrists who dared to try and psychoanalyze him ended up running away for their lives. But he never threatened them with the Force; in fact, he had not used the Force since he left Malachor. He refused to even open up to it. That was what his dream was about: his last experience in the Force, and until those dreams stopped, he would never use it again.

And now the Jedi Council was interrogating him, despite the fact they knew he was already suffering. They could certainly see it in his face. His hair was disheveled, his eyes looked sunken in and cruel, his skin had lost much of its color. He looked like he was fallen to the Dark Side even without the sunset's shadow veiling him. Not to mention the fact that his temper was infinitely shorter than the Jedi Council remembered it was. Perhaps that was why they were treating him in this manner. Perhaps they thought he _had_ fallen. If no one else, Master Atris certainly did.

"We were taught to be the Republic's protectors," said Silas. "We were told it was our duty to defend the innocent. How does sitting back and letting the Outer Rim burn at the Mandalorians' touch fulfill that duty?"

"By meeting them in battle, you merely fueled their lust for war," countered Atris. "The renegades' unauthorized entry into that war served only to escalate the conflict. And the galaxy paid a terrible price for it."

"Did you expect us to _negotiate _with them?" Silas spat. "To sit across a table and talk while billions of civilians-"

"Enough!" declared Vrook. "We are not here to debate the issue. You chose to go to war in direct defiance of this council's orders. Your reasons are irrelevant."

"It is the decision of this council that you are to be stripped of your rank, Silas Carver," said Lonna Vash. There was a hint of remorse in her voice, just enough for Silas to hear, but not enough for him to believe the feeling was sincere. "You are no longer a Jedi Knight. You are an exile."

It was the abruptness and finality of the verdict, not so much the verdict itself, that rocked Silas' world. He had expected them to let him plead his case, but it seemed they had made their decision long before he entered the room. As he processed Vash's decree, his shock turned to anger, an emotion he had come to know well during the Mandalorian Wars. "I came back," Silas half-growled. His body began to tremble as his anger and exhaustion mounted. "I am the only one who came back. After you turned your back on us, even after you dared to condemn us for protecting the Republic, I came back because I thought there was still some honor among the Jedi. Apparently, I was-"

Atris nearly jumped up from her chair. "You would _dare_ speak to us of honor after the havoc you wreaked upon the galaxy!" she thundered, throwing an accusatory finger at him. "The horrors you wrought? The planets you _destroyed?_"

Silas lowered his head, balled his fists, and bared his teeth. After all he had endured over the years at war, "I refuse be scolded by a _librarian._" It took him a moment to realize he had actually said the words aloud. He would have regretted it, but the shocked look of murderous rage spreading across Atris' face was just too good.

"I said _enough!_" declared Master Vrook, banging his fist on the armrest of his seat. "Exile, you are to leave the temple grounds immediately as per our judgment. And you are to never return."

_Not that I would want to_, Silas thought. He and the Jedi were ideologically farther removed than he had originally thought, and he wasn't sure it was just him who had taken steps away. He glanced over at Kavar, who seemed reluctant to look him in the eye. "I thought you of all people would understand why I did what I did, my old master. You taught me that a Jedi's life was sacrifice, that the purpose of the Jedi was to safeguard the present and future of the Republic, that we should be willing to pay any price to protect it."

Kavar closed his eyes and looked away. "If you believe the teachings of the Jedi are to be used as you did, then you learned nothing from me, Exile."

Kavar's words cut Silas to the core; his old master was turning his back on him. A man he had considered to be a great mentor, a friend, practically a brother, was now renouncing any bond they may have had. It left a pain in Carver's chest that Atris' words could never hope to match.

"There is one last thing," said Vrook. "Your lightsaber; surrender it to us."

It was the final straw, the last insult Carver would take from them. He reached under his robe, drew with double-ended hilt, and activated the twin emerald beams. None of the Masters went for their weapons, but he could guess that their defenses were up. Were he were inclined to test the Force, he could confirm it, but he was still abstaining from its use. "You want this?" he spoke. "Then _go get it._" With all the strength he could muster, Carver threw the saber downward. The impact burned a hole in the floor through which the hilt disappeared. A wave of dizziness hit him, a sign he had overexerted himself in his sleep-deprived state, but he did not let it show. Instead he spun on his heels and marched out of the room, leaving the bewildered Jedi behind forever.

As Silas made his way through the temple, he noticed he was making more and more missteps; his balance starting to fail him. He resolved to press onward, as always. He was determined to stall his nightmare for as long as he could. As he approached the entrance to the Grand Hall, Silas noticed an older Jedi woman standing next to the doorway. Her face was partially concealed by her hood, but Silas could tell she was looking right at him.

"So their judgment has been rendered?" she asked him. He did not answer as he approached her. "Fear not, Exile," she continued, "not all roads to enlightenment run through the Jedi."

"I care not for enlightenment," Carver replied. At that moment, the exhaustion he had been fighting back swept over him in an unstoppable torrent, and his legs gave out from under him. As darkness closed around him, he got a look at the woman's face as she knelt down over him and moved her hand towards his head. _What strange eyes…_

* * *

-10 years later-

The smell of reprocessed air and kolto was the first thing Silas Carver registered as he regained consciousness. His eyelids were heavy, too heavy to open at the moment, and his mind was not fully awake yet, so he was forced to use his remaining senses to figure out where he was. Two big clues were those scents. Reprocessed air was common in ships. Kolto, however, was found in hospitals, until he remembered that some ships have medical bays. _His_ ship had one, as a matter of fact.

With a groan Silas mustered what little strength he had and pried his eyes open. He saw the circular entryway and the ladder leading up to what he knew to be a dorsal gun station and smiled. He was indeed on the _Ebon Hawk_. His smile, however, was short lived as his relief turned to puzzlement; how did he get here? The last thing he remembered was the baritone laughter of Darth Sion echoing in his ear. That had occurred in the Sith Academy, which was nowhere near where they had landed the ship.

Silas ran his right hand up the side of his face and through his hair, tilting his head left as he did so. His smile returned when he spotted Brianna curled up and asleep in a chair against the wall. More memories came back to him, sensations really. He remembered feeling Brianna's resolve, her devotion, and her power. Somehow, she was responsible for him still being alive, he could just feel it. He would have gone over to her had he not had IV tubes running into his arms. Looking down at his right arm, he found it encased in a white oblong kolto tank that ran the length of his forearm. A small transparisteel window in the tube allowed him to see the kolto inside as well as two pairs of small tubes extending from the walls of the tank and into his arm. Experience told him that meant he had suffered severe internal injuries and that those tubes injected kolto right to the source.

A soft whistle drew his attention to the other side of the room. He found T3-M4 looking back at him. The utility droid sat dutifully in front of the medical console with his computer probe spinning carefully inside its interface. Whatever the droid was doing, Silas could feel his awareness and alertness returning. _Must be something that counteracts the sedatives._ After several seconds, the droid unplugged and rolled over to the bed, and Silas patted the droid on the head in gratitude, unsure if the droid could even register the tactile gesture. T3 whistled a question to him.

"No," replied Silas weakly, "let them sleep. Something tells me they have earned it." T3 whistled softly again, and he couldn't help but grin. "Alright. But only if he is still awake." T3 rolled out of the room and Silas laid back on the bed, welcoming the soothing touch of the soft cushion. He was contemplating the idea of going back to sleep himself when Mandalore walked into the room, still fully clad in his armor. He picked up a chair, walked with it to the side of his bed opposite Brianna, quietly set it down backwards, and sat in it so his crossed arms rested on the seat's back.

"You," stated Mandalore, "look like crap."

Silas gave the Mandalorian a soft chuckle. "I feel like it," he replied with a groan; the numbness of sleep was starting to wear off. He forced himself to sit up despite his back's protests. "How long have I…?"

"About nineteen hours," answered Mandalore. "A pretty good nap if I do say so myself."

Silas chuckled again. "Next time I will remember to set my alarm." He glanced over at Brianna. "The others?"

"I sent 'em to bed. Well, most of 'em." Mandalore nodded towards Brianna. "She refused to leave."

Why am I not surprised? thought Silas.

"She saved you, you know," said Mandalore. "The droid told us to bring the ship to the valley, and by the time we got there, she had floated you all the way through the mountain pass. She's got guts, that one."

"Yes, she does," Silas replied softly. Then a dangerous thought hit him, and he snapped his head back to Mandalore. "What happened to Sion?"

"The Sith? He's gone."

Silas furrowed his eyebrow in confusion. "Gone?"

"Yep. From what she told me, right after he killed that Jedi we were looking for, he started going nuts and ran screaming from the academy. I wouldn't have believed it myself, but I caught a glimpse of a ship leaving the city around the time she said it happened."

"Did she say what caused it?"

Mandalore shook his head. "Nope, she said it just happened."

_Nothing ever _just happens_,_ thought Silas, and he was sure Mandalore knew that as well. "So," he said after a few moments of silence, "what happened in the city?"

It was Mandalore's turn to chuckle. "It's a long and ugly story." He watched Silas lean back and get confortable, and with a shrug he recited the tale of their urban expedition. He told Silas everything, from the ambush at the doors of the governor's mansion to the siege of the mansion itself to Jaq's encounter with the Fallen. Silas listened intently, memorizing every detail of Mandalore's tale. Not all of what he heard he liked.

"What is your assessment?" Silas asked, referring to Jaq's fight with the Sith.

"He got his ass handed to him on a chrome platter," said Mandalore. "He lost the initiative in the fight and never got it back. If I hadn't jumped in when I did…"

Silas nodded slowly in agreement. Despite the weeks of training, there were a few lessons his apprentice had yet to learn. That Jaq failed, however, was not the issue; it was but a symptom of a larger and more elusive problem. Jaq would have to discover it and the solution before he could truly move forward. Carver would set that wheel into motion soon enough. For right now, he had another issue staring him in the face, and he was determined to address it.

"You do realize we are not searching for Revan," said Carver. He saw Mandalore tense ever so slightly at the comment; he had not expected their conversation to take this turn so abruptly. All the better for Carver. It meant he would get honest, unrehearsed answers.

"It was the first thing I could think of. The Fallen are still loyal to Revan despite everything that's happened since the end of the war. I knew he wouldn't kill someone he thought was loyal to the cause."

"But we are not-"

Mandalore waved a dismissive hand. "I know, but I did buy him some time, time he'll spend wisely, I'll make sure of it. But for right now," he said, rising from his seat, "I suggest you get some rest. When they find out you're up, you may not have a peaceful moment for a good while." With that he started for the hatchway.

Silas looked over at Brianna, who had managed to stay asleep despite the proximate commotion. The encounter with Sion must have taxed her greatly for her to not have been disturbed.

"Every major faction in the galaxy is looking for him, you know," said Mandalore, causing Silas to look back over towards the clan leader who was glancing over his shoulder at him. "Sith, Jedi, the Republic military, even a few Mandalorians. His disappearance caused about as much damage to the galaxy as the wars did. Finding Revan would answer a lot of questions." He did not wait for Silas to reply before he walked out.

Silas let Mandalore's words sink in as he settled back into his pillow. The more cold and calculating part of his mind told him that he had just found what Kreia promised the clan leader in exchange for his support. However, he also remembered that Mandalore had told him the truth when he said Kreia had no influence on him.

Still there was a larger question of why he should even try to find Revan. Mandalore may have had his reasons, but to Silas, Revan was someone he could easily go the rest of his life without seeing again. Not after Malachor, _especially_ not after Malachor.

But if he did happen upon Revan, he wondered, what would his reaction be? What would Revan's reaction be? Would they both walk away from the encounter? Such thoughts played across his mind as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Silas Carver fought to keep his anxiety in check as he watched Bao-Dur review the results of his latest scans. The task was proving increasingly maddening as the Iridonian was content to remain perfectly silent as he perused the datapad, apparently unwilling to divulge anything until he had memorized the entire thing. Three minutes into this silent torture, Silas could not take it anymore. "Well?"

Bao-Dur looked up from his datapad and the look on his face, way he pursed his lips, told Silas everything he needed to know. An 'I told you so,' was coming. "I told you it was too soon for you to be on your feet for so long," Bao-Dur said calmly. Sometimes Silas hated being right.

"I have not had a shower in four days," Silas quickly countered. "I could not stand it any longer."

Bao-Dur shook his head. "General, you won't be able to stand at all if you don't take better care of yourself."

As much as Silas would have liked to give Bao-Dur one of his signature glares, such things were only reserved for when his intended targets were wrong. And Bao-Dur, unfortunately, was not in this case. Silas had made a reckless decision to use the shower without alerting anyone, and as he was getting out of the shower, he had misstepped on the wet floor and crashed into the corner of the counter. The blinding white pain radiating from his left leg told him everything he needed to know; he had made a severe mistake, one that was going to cost him. "How much damage are we talking here?"

Bao-Dur let out a soft sigh. "The micro-fractures in your leg have splintered, and your shin has split in two. By some miracle the bone is otherwise intact, but-"

"How long until I am able to fight on it?"

Bao-Dur stared at Silas as if he was growing a second head. "General, this is not the kind of injury you simply wrap in gauze and walk off. Even with the best medical equipment, it could take months to heal properly."

"I do not have months," Silas countered sharply.

"You also don't have much choice in the matter either," Bao-Dur replied, losing a bit of his cool. "There's only so much we can do here."

From behind Bao-Dur came a faint, "Ahem." The Iridonian turned and stepped backward to reveal Visas Marr standing just beyond the hatchway doing her best to appear humble. "I may have a solution, Milord," she said softly, "a healing trance."

Silas immediately perked up at the idea. "Of course." How could he have forgotten? He had taken part in a couple during the war, but had never needed one himself. If they were really as effective as he remembered, he would be on his feet in no time. A grin spread over his face.

Bao-Dur saw the General's expression, closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, almost wanting to curse Visas for her ever-perfect timing. He had hoped things would slow things down a bit, give everyone a chance to stop and think, maybe even rethink, but it seemed the General intended nothing of the sort. Bao-Dur would have to help where he could while working at the General's pace. "You're sure you want to do this, General?" Silas gave him an unquestionable nod. "All right. Well, before you get too deep into it, there is a bit of conventional work I can do to help your recovery."

Silas cocked his head to the side, noting Bao-Dur's apparent shift in gears. Having lost the last battle of wits, Bao-Dur was scrambling to regain his position, albeit on ground that favored Silas. But he could not figure out the reason behind the Iridonian's actions. Simple concern on Bao-Dur's part ought to be enough, but Silas found himself becoming more suspicious as of late. Very little could be taken at face value. "Go on," he said.

Bao-Dur looked back down at the datapad in his hand. "Some of the splinters have dislodged completely from the bone; that's the main reason you feel pain when you shift your leg," he explained.

Silas winced as he stretched out his left leg and felt the sharp jolt running up and down his shin, confirming what the tech had just said.

"I can go in with a laser scalpel and burn away those floating shards," Bao-Dur continued.

Silas forgot the pain in his leg and locked eyes on the Iridonian. "You?"

Bao-Dur gave him a knowing grin. "Is there someone else you would rather do it?"

Silas sat in puzzled silence for a moment. Since Bao-Dur deliberately chose to miss the nature of his question, Silas decided bluntness was the best course of action. "You are not a doctor, Bao-Dur, despite your efforts; you are a tech."

Surprisingly, Bao-Dur's grin widened with a soft chuckle. "'Everyone is a medic in war,' remember?"

Silas recognized his own words, even if they were a decade removed. After the bloody Dxun campaigns, Silas had revised the Republic's field medicine guide and had it distributed to everyone who had the potential to be on the front lines at any point. That included officers, pilots, engineers, and even cooks. It was a decision that saved hundreds of lives during the war, but even so, the guide did have its limits. "I do not recall my manual being so thorough on the subject of field surgery," said Silas, watching Bao-Dur move about the room.

"My engineer team had a good medic assigned to it," Bao-Dur replied as he stood over the medical console. He looked over at Silas. "Said I had a real feel for the job, but I liked where I was at the time. You want the knock-out juice, General?" he asked.

"No," answered Silas. "A local anesthetic will suffice." He was not a fan of drugs that impaired his mind.

"If you're sure," Bao-Dur replied. "Not many people like watching themselves get operated on."

Silas took a moment to close his eyes and flex his stiff back. "Not many people get operated on by a tech," he said with a half-grin.

Bao-Dur chuckled at the General's dry humor. "It's not all that different, General," he said, entering commands into the console. "It's all about finding the right wires." He reached into the computer's receptacle and produced a large-needled syringe filled with a clear liquid.

"Well, if you are hoping to find such wires, prepare to be disappointed," said Silas, tracking Bao-Dur as he moved to the end of the bed.

Bao-Dur smiled again. "Trust me, General; you are in good hands." He held up the syringe to make sure there was no air in the tube. "You'll feel a slight pinch."

Silas barely winced as he felt the needle pierce his skin. Given all that he had suffered these past few days, this small discomfort was practically pleasurable, and it was over in a matter of seconds. _Would that all my pains could be ended so quickly..._

"It'll take a few minutes for the anesthetic to kick in fully," said Bao-Dur. "When I come back, we'll get started."

Silas watched Bao-Dur leave the room, ushering Visas out with him, and settled into his pillow, letting the anesthetic work its magic. He quickly realized, however, why Bao-Dur chose to leave so abruptly; the sneaky tech had added a mild sedative to the anesthetic injection. The concoction would be easy enough to fight, but instead Silas chose to let it relax him, no doubt that had been the Iridonian's intention. Or maybe his gamble. Either way, Bao-Dur was taking to his role of ship's doctor surprisingly well, and for now, Silas saw no reason to deny him.

So when Bao-Dur came back into the room, Silas chose not to bring up the fact that his doctor had essentially drugged him without his consent. "I take it I'm not your first patient, then?" Silas asked, the sedative slurring his speech a little.

"Technically no," Bao-Dur replied, picking up the laser scalpel. "I assisted in about a dozen field surgeries during the war. You are my first solo, though."

Some of Silas' lucidity returned. "That was ten years ago."

Bao-Dur gave Silas a light, almost pensive, chuckle as he pulled up a stool next to Silas' leg. "I've never really forgotten. After all these years, everything I learned is still engrained right here," he said, tapping his forehead. "I wouldn't have offered otherwise."

Bao-Dur's words told Silas more than the Iridonian realized and gave Silas much more to consider as well. "So what made you such a good medic?"

Bao-Dur chuckled again and held up his mechanical hand palm-down and parallel to the floor. "Steady hands," he answered with a grin.

Silas gave him a raised eyebrow. "I thought you lost the arm after the war."

"Right after, actually. But even before, Cut-up said I had good hands and instincts."

"Cut-up?"

"The nickname we gave our field medic. A long story." Bao-Dur shook away the memories and focused himself. "All right, here we go."

Even with the anesthetic, Silas could still feel his skin part and the low heat and pressure of the surgical laser, but the pain was negligible. Even so, he closed his eyes and delved into the Force. Immediately he could sense the currents of the Force flowing around him, and he was not surprised in the least to see them guiding Bao-Dur's hand as the tech performed his delicate work. Whatever doubts Silas may have still had regarding Bao-Dur's abilities were purged from his mind. He felt a familiar tightness in his gut as he once again struggled with himself over what to do about the tech. Part of him simply wanted to ignore the issue as irrelevant distraction, but somewhere, a small niggling feeling told was telling him that Bao-Dur deserved to know the truth. After everything the Bao-Dur had done, and currently was doing, for him, how could Silas be justified in keeping this secret from him?

Silas opened his eyes and looked directly at Bao-Dur; the Iridonian was so involved in his work, he did not even notice. _What good would come of knowing?_ Silas wondered. If he were to tell Bao-Dur the truth, what then? It would be all the more cruel to reveal the truth and then let him twist in the proverbial wind as he tried to harness his abilities. So would Silas have to train Bao-Dur to use the Force? Was he even the right person to train Bao-Dur? Despite Silas' attempts to get Bao-Dur to adopt his view of the galaxy, the Iridonian was content in his own beliefs. He had come to terms with his anger with the Mandalorians in his time on Dxun, and although he still felt an immense sense of guilt over Malachor V, using those feelings to drive Bao-Dur to the Dark Side was out of the question. While the events orbiting that planet bound their lives together, those memories were sacrosanct and not to be used for anything other than reflection and mourning.

So there were no deep-rooted emotions within Bao-Dur for Silas to tap, and in truth, Silas was not sure if he even wanted to try anymore. Bao-Dur was simply not made for the Dark Side, and the only methods Silas could possibly employ to make him fall would most assuredly overwhelm and break the Iridonian before he became strong enough to embrace his potential. And there was absolutely no way he was going to teach Bao-Dur in the ways of the Jedi. So Silas eventually came back to his original problem: what to do about Bao-Dur. _Perhaps-_

"Almost finished here, General," Bao-Dur announced.

Silas snapped out of his musings to find Bao-Dur sliding another bacta tube over his leg and fitting it tightly over his surgery wound. "You work quickly."

Bao-Dur gave him a smile. "Time flies when you meditate, General." He flipped a switch on the wall of the tube, letting the bacta flow out of its storage compartment, fill the tube, and flow into his wound. "Most of the cuts I had to make are already closed, but I just want to make certain they heal fully. Wear this for a day, and then you and Visas can start your healing trances to restore the bone."

"Well done, Bao-Dur," said Silas, but after a moment's thought, he added, "thank you."

"You're welcome, General," replied Bao-Dur, getting up from his chair to wash his hands. "It was a relatively straight-forward procedure on a somewhat compliant patient."

Silas gave him a sly grin. "I am sure the sedative had something to do with that."

Bao-Dur did not miss a beat and returned the grin. "The sedative wasn't for your sake, General." He paused long enough to grab a hand towel. "Patients who are stressed or fidgeting tend to make field surgery messy. Sedatives keep the motion at a minimum and reduce overall blood flow."

"So you gave me that drug-"

"-To make my job easier? Yep. It was a lesson I learned from Cut-up." Bao-Dur started for the hatchway. "Now get some rest General."

Silas watched tech/doc shut the door behind him and shook his head. _What have I turned him into?_

* * *

-5 days later; 0220 Korriban local time-

Jaq awoke with a start and bolted up in his bunk, almost ramming his head against the bottom of the upper bunk. Fortunately, his well-placed right hand stopped his head from making contact with the metal surface, but that was a merely a reflexive action while Jaq was focused on other things. Namely his dreams, or rather his nightmares. He had been getting them ever since their first night on Korriban, and with each passing night, they grew progressively worse.

They usually began the same way: he was in the governor's mansion, sometimes was with Mandalore and Mira, but more recently alone. He would be fighting against groups of Sith soldiers at various points within the mansion, then suddenly he would find himself on a plane of infinite white facing off against Refale Vadov. The fight between them was more or less how it occurred in real life, but around the fourth or fifth night, it started taking a turn. One night, Jaq had been unable to move, giving Vadov the freedom to slowly and gleefully maul him nearly to death. Jaq would always wake up just before Vadov made the killing blow, and after waking up, it would be some time before he could go back to sleep. This night, however, his nightmare had really thrown him through a loop. As he lay crumpled at the Fallen's feet with Vadov's laughter echoing in his ears, Jaq noticed that the room had changed from a blinding white plane to a dark, ancient-looking chamber with high stone walls. His skin shivered in the cold, and he could see his breath coming out in short bursts as he struggled to breathe. But that was just the beginning. Jaq looked up to sneer at his executioner one final time only to find that it was Silas Carver who was standing over him, laughing at him, calling him weak. The sight of his mentor preparing to kill him gripped his heart in pure terror, a feeling he had not felt ever in his life. That feeling lasted up to the point where Silas' red lightsaber plunged toward his face.

Jaq rubbed his right hand over his face, wiping away the rest of his fatigue, and silently got up from his bunk. He needed to take a walk; common sense dictated that he should go back to bed, but sleep was the last thing on his mind as he opened the locker under his bunk and retrieved his grey robes and boots.

Five minutes later, he was walking down the boarding ramp having succeeded in not rousing anyone as he gathered some rations and a canteen of water. He wasn't sure why he felt the urge to bring supplies for a nighttime stroll, but if there was one thing Jaq understood, it was to never doubt his instincts. However, just because he did not wake anyone did not mean his departure had gone unnoticed.

"_And where are you going at such an hour?"_ echoed Kreia's voice from within his head.

Jaq stopped dead in his tracks and gritted his teeth at the mental intrusion. Of course _she_ would never be asleep at this hour like normal people. _Get out of my head, witch._ He heard and felt her amused chuckle reverberating in his skull.

_"And deny you the chance to discover the truth behind your dreams?"_ Kreia asked in that coy, smug tone of hers.

Jaq's mind flashed back to his most recent dream. He was back in the dark room looking up at Silas as his mentor was preparing to drive his lightsaber through his head, and that same feeling of shock and horror overtook him. But it ended as soon as it began, allowing Jaq to quickly come down from the sudden adrenaline rush.

"_Do you really think me so callus?" _Kreia continued in her amused tone. She was enjoying herself at his expense, which only served to stoke Jaq's anger further.

_I said, stay out of my head!_ With a burst of mental energy, Jaq attempted to purge her from his mind. While the attempt was ultimately futile, he felt a change in her attitude. She was done toying with him.

_"You take such visions too lightly."_

_It was just a stupid dream._

_"Was it? Those gifted with the Force do not dream as others do. I know of the place you saw."_

Jaq rolled his eyes. _Really? How nice for you._

_"Find it, and you may uncover the answers you seek. I will even give you a hint to get you started."_

_I don't want anything you co- Hey!_ Jaq had not even finished mentally rebuking Kreia when he realized he had just taken two steps to his left. Once he stopped himself, he was very tempted to turn around, head back into the ship, and slit Kreia's throat. _If you do that again, so help me..._ But he felt no response from her; Kreia had left his mind, thankfully. The old bat could be intolerable at times. Still, she had this infuriating habit of making sense every so often. Jaq stared out into the distance. The high walls that sheltered the tombs of the dead Sith Lords formed a large bowl that narrowed to a single trail on the far side. There were other paths that led up the sides of the valley, but Jaq doubted any of those were the right directions. So with a frustrated sigh, he started hiking towards the far side of the valley. Whatever Kreia was sending him towards, Jaq vowed to overcome it, and if he was walking into a deathtrap, he would return the favor in kind.

* * *

_After all these years, it still feels like I'm on hallowed ground,_ thought Jaq as he made his way through the Valley of the Dark Lords. Ten years ago he had come to this place with Darth Revan just as the Sith movement was gearing up to formally authorize the reactivation of the academy. There had been no ceremony, just a meeting with the academy's soon-to-be headmaster, Jorak Uln, and his hand-picked instructors. They gathered in the very center of the valley, the four great tombs of the ancient Sith Lords provided an excellent backdrop for Revan as he laid out his guidelines for the born-again academy. Jaq and the soldiers under his command had stood quietly behind Revan, occasionally glancing around to marvel at the stone monuments and pillars. At the time, Jaq could only wonder what kind of power could reside at such a place. Now he could feel it, and he liked it. He wanted more of it.

However, while the power of the Valley of the Dark Lords was still palpable, its glorious visage had waned significantly. In the wake of the Republic's assault on Korriban, not even the long-dead Sith had been safe. Amongst other things, most of the grand pillars had fallen over or been destroyed, the archways over the four tombs had collapsed, and the stone head of Tulak Horde lied on its side and half-buried in the sand. A part of Jaq that still held fond memories of his time as a Sith assassin silently raged at the desecration. Somehow, he would make the Republic and the Jedi pay for the damage they caused.

That was when Jaq felt a disturbance in the Force. He drew his bladestaff hilt into his hand and activated the twin red beams. His eyes scanned the area, finding nothing, but his senses told him otherwise. Something was out there and closing in on him.

Kreia's voice momentarily echoed in his head. _"Show no fear."_

Jaq scoffed. _As if I need her to tell me that_. He spun his weapon into a defensive preparation stance and scanned the valley for movement. His eyes told him he was alone, but there was no mistaking the presence he felt. Jaq was being hunted. He closed his eyes, they would be of no use to him now, and opened his mind to the Force. In that instant, he could hear the stream of semi-sentient instincts driving the predator's movements, urging it to stay hidden as it moved in for the kill. Jaq was surprised at how difficult it was to pin down the predator's location. With fully-sentient species, their higher-tiered thoughts came though like a homing beacon, easy to locate and track. This creature's thoughts, however, were more like a strobe light shining in his eyes: nebulous, encompassing, disorienting. It made him nervous. Jaq spun circles with his double-blade, but the creature did not perceive the move as a threat to it. More than that, the predator seemed encouraged by the display as it moved into striking range. It was not the reaction Jaq was expecting, and it told him precisely what he needed to know.

Jaq spun on his heels and let loose a wide arc of lightning. The blue-white bolts found a target and coalesced around it, forcing the creature to drop its camouflage and reveal itself in a pained howl. Jaq's attack had been investigatory in nature and did not last long, and when he got a good look at his stalker, his eyes widened in amazement. It was a black-armored, squat, four-legged dragon with vicious red eyes and horns growing out to the side of its head. For the longest time it simply sat there looking at Jaq, occasionally tilting its head to one side. If he didn't know any better, Jaq would almost say it was trying to figure him out just as he was figuring it out. He ruled out the idea of it merely distracting him to allow a second one to come up from behind him; he and this dragon were the only two living things in the valley at the moment, of that he was certain.

Finally, the dragon let out a low growl and started plodding past Jaq. Apparently the alpha predator felt like its prey had somehow outdone it, and yet, even in defeat, it still moved with a smooth sense of grace, as if it knew that it was still the dominant predator on the planet.

Then came Kreia again. _"Follow it."_

_You're not seriously suggesting that I-_

"_I am."_

Jaq watched the dragon for a moment, then shook his head and started running. _I can't believe I'm doing this,_ he thought as he hurried to catch up.

Within minutes of following the dragon, Jaq came to two conclusions: 1. The dragon was intent on walking in a straight line; 2. It did not care what was in front of it. As soon as the trail Jaq thought they were following took a turn to the left, the dragon promptly ignored it and started up the mountain side without so much as breaking its stride. Jaq observed the dragon climb the slope for a moment in amused disbelief, then with a shake of his head, he started climbing as well.

Their journey took them well away from the valley of the Dark Lords as well as any of the mountain trails. After scaling his third mountain, Jaq began to wonder where his "guide" could possibly be taking him, or if it was actually taking him somewhere at all. Not once since they left the valley did the dragon look back to see if Jaq was still following. He watched the dragon disappear over the other side of the mountain. _For all I know,_ thought Jaq as he walked over to the ledge,_ its just going about its business of walking in straight lines. _As if on cue, the dragon looked back up at him and barked. _Well, that answers that question, I guess._ Carefully stepping off the ledge, Jaq let gravity pull him down the mountain slope on a cascade of loose rocks. He was pleasantly surprised to see his guide waited until he caught up to continue on. "You better not be leading me back to a den full of your buddies, pal," he told the dragon. It gave him no response.

* * *

Jaq could sense he was drawing close to his destination. A dark call in the Force beckoned him, drew him to its source. He crested one last hilltop to find his guide had stopped at the mouth of a dark cave. The power emanating from it made him shiver with excitement, but it was not the cave itself that was calling to him; there was something inside the cave he had to find, a secret waiting for him to unlock.

Jaq smiled as he slid halfway down the hillside then vaulted forward to land next to the dragon, who was staring intently at the cave. The predator let out a low guttural hiss, which told Jaq there were bound to be some obstacles still separating him from his goal. But Jaq would not be deterred now. He looked down at the dragon and thanked it for its guidance. The dragon, in turn, simply turned around and sauntered off, its task completed. Jaq watched the dragon wrap itself in its Force camouflage until the predator had melted away into the night. Then Jaq cast on last look back the way he had come before heading into the cave.

The power of the Dark Side filled Jaq as he moved deeper into the cave, and he welcomed it as openly as he had back at the governor's mansion. It helped him navigate through the all-encompassing darkness, but more importantly, it gave him the rush he had been waiting for all week. The days following his defeat at Refale Vadov's hands had not been good for Jaq. Doubt had started to creep into his mind, and he had been unable to focus. And then, of course, the nightmares that plagued him. But now, none of that mattered; at this very moment, he felt like his old self again, and it felt so good.

For the most part, the cave-dwellers chose to avoid him; the dark power he exuded was a natural repellant for the intelligent and even semi-intelligent creatures that placed value on their own survival. Even the tuakata pack scattered as he approached. But the shyrack swarm was another matter entirely. Those shrieking flyers were determined to make a meal out of Jaq no matter how many of them had to die to do it. Were it not for the power up Jaq was getting from the cave, they probably would have succeeded.

They dove at Jaq en masse from above, taking swipes at him with razor-sharp talons then circled around for another pass. Overwhelmed at first, Jaq was forced to roll away from the swarm. Coming to his feet, he thumbed his bladestaff and swung a wide arc in front of him, carving through both air and flesh. Four shyracks and a number of shyrack pieces dropped to the ground, but more just kept coming.

Although Jaq made quick work of any fliers that were unlucky enough to be caught by his spinning blades, the sheer weight of aerial assault inevitably forced him to give ground. There were simply too many shyracks. Fortunately, they were not that smart, so dodging them was relatively simple. However, there had to be a better way to deal with these pests. As he bisected one more shyrack that got too close, Jaq remembered a Force technique he had seen Silas use a couple of times in the past: a radial shockwave. Jaq had never done this himself, but given his current predicament, now was as good a time as any to try. The only problem was he had no time to concentrate; the shyracks were intent on taking his head. So Jaq disengaged and put some meters between him and the swarm. Ahead of him he could see the passageway connected to a large chamber, the perfect spot to make his stand and not risk a collapse of his only known escape route. Jaq ran into the chamber, narrowly avoiding falling over the sudden drop-off that apparently split the room in two, and looked back in time to see the shyrack swarm flood the room and spread out high above him, preparing for one last dive at their prey. Jaq was amazed at how many shyracks were actually trying to kill him. There had to be at least two dozen screeching flyers above him. He had to kill every single one of them at once.

Jaq crossed his arms in front of him and gathered the Force in his arms. The shyracks may have sensed his intentions, for the entire swarm dove towards him as one. They did not even get close. With a wicked grin, Jaq threw his arms wide and unleashed a blast of Force energy that shattered bones and ripped apart wing membranes, leaving a most of the shyracks dead and the rest screeching in pain as they bled out onto the cave floor. Jaq felt the dark currents of Korriban seemed pleased with yet another act of mass slaughter, or maybe it was just himself who was pleased. Either way, he was wearing a satisfied smirk as he surveyed his handiwork. He had created an explosion with the Force, and for the first time, he did not feel winded or drained from the exertion. It was a sign of definite improvement._ I think I just leveled-up_, he thought with a chuckle.

The cold Force currents flowing through him drew his attention to the far side of the room. There, in a small alcove, Jaq could feel the Dark Side of the Force radiating outward. This was what he had been searching for. In the pitch black, Jaq could barely see; only because his lit bladestaff barely illuminated the rock face on the opposite side of the pit could Jaq tell how wide the gap was. What Jaq couldn't see, though, was a bridge. If one existed, it was hidden in the darkness, and Jaq did not feel like taking to time to search for it when his goal was right him front of him. So he backed up, deliberately stepping on a couple of the still alive but broken shyracks in the process, and took a running jump over the pit, using the Force to ensure he more than cleared it. Jaq carefully made his way to the alcove. When he turned to look inside it, he found a passageway leading into the rock. But unlike the previous one he had been in, this one had been carved out by artificial means.

Kreia's voice echoed in his mind. _"You have done well to make it this far."_

"What is this place?" Jaq asked out loud, slightly awed by what he felt.

"_It is the ancient burial site for one of the great Sith Lords, Ludo Kresh. Unlike the tombs in the Valley of the Dark Lords, this site was rarely visited by the Sith, and rarer still were those who dared venture inside it."_

Jaq placed his hand on the cold stone and peered into the hallway. "So do you know what's in it?"

"_Only what you take with you."_

"I take that as a 'no,' then."

"_Perhaps, but be warned; this is a Sith tomb. It is designed to prevent the weak and foolish from gaining access. It will not forgive any mistakes..."_ With that Kreia vanished from Jaq's mind.

Jaq stood at the threshold for a moment, weighing the risks versus any possible rewards he might gain from entering the tomb. Kreia's word stuck in his mind. If she was right, and he managed to pass whatever tests the tomb had, it would prove to her, to Silas, and to himself, that he neither weak nor foolish. That alone was enough of a reason for him to take that first step into the passageway. Immediately Jaq felt a harsh chill run down his spine; the tomb knew it had a visitor.

* * *

There was no natural light in the cave, but somehow Jaq's eyes managed to pick up something that allowed him to see where he was going. The corridor he was walking down was carved roughly in the shape of a diamond with the wall starting to tilt in at waist height. So far, there had been no branches in the path or any sign of traps. He was simply following this single path wherever it led him. Eventually he came upon a large door. He reached out to touch it when he felt the chill down his spine again. The door began rumbling as it unlocked itself. The door slid open, revealing more darkness, but when Jaq stepped into the room, a bright flash of light momentarily blinded him. It took him a moment to recover, and as soon as his vision returned he found himself…

Not in a cave.

The walls and floor were not of stone but metal, polished and pristine. Ahead of him was a large conference table with twelve leather chairs pulled up around it and a datapad in front of each chair. This room looked familiar somehow. That's when he became aware of something else, a sound. A low rumbling thrum, to be precise. It was a sound Jaq knew all too well. Engines. He was on a starship, a large on judging by the tenor. However, that realization was swiftly forgotten by what happened next.

"About time you showed up, Jaq. I was starting to get worried."

Jaq nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a man's jovial voice coming from his right. He recognized the voice in an instant, and his mind screamed at the impossibility.

"And _what_ are you wearing?"

Jaq slowly looked over to his right, and there, dressed in his full uniform with his rifle strapped behind his back, was a tall, grinning, blue-eyed blond who was supposed to be ten-years dead. A thousand different feelings ran through Jaq in that moment. among them shock, joy, panic, and awe, freezing Jaq in place. As he stared wide-eyed at the older man before him, another emotion added itself to the mix: guilt.

"Do the Jedi know you raided their laundry?" he asked, canting his head over slightly. "Or did you just lose _another_ bet?"

With his mind currently not functioning properly, Jaq found it difficult to string together a coherent sentence, but he managed to cobble one together somehow. "No… no…not uh, not this time,…Atton."

Atton Zhan furrowed his brows and clapped Jaq on the shoulder. "Hey, you alright Jaq? You look spooked."

The feel of Atton's hand seemed to break Jaq out of his stupor. It was a signal that this might not be an illusion after all. That maybe he hadn't in fact seen the light fade from behind Atton's eyes ten years ago as he thought he had. "Yeah, I'm fine, just lost my train of thought for a minute."

"Right," said Atton, sounding more than a little dubious. He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Are you sure you didn't spend all last night, ah, 'celebrating?'" He put his thumb to his lips and mimicked taking a swig.

Jaq chuckled at his old not-murdered-anymore friend, a fact that seemed to grow less and less important rather quickly. What mattered now was the weird funk he seemed to be in since the battle of Malachor V three weeks ago. The fleet was still in orbit around the dead planet, and no one had heard anything from Republic Naval Command. "Yeah, I'm sure. I still don't think I'm in the mood to celebrate." Of course, that in no way meant Jaq hadn't had a drink during that time. Quite the contrary; he had emptied quite a few bottles over the past few weeks; he just hadn't been enjoying himself at the time.

Atton gave Jaq a pensive grin. "Yeah, I know what you mean. There's not that much to really drink to, except maybe the end of the war. But even that…" Atton paused to shake his head. "I thought things'd be getting better once the fighting stopped, then I heard about that surface op. I-"

"Attention on deck!"

The ship captain's terse command triggered an automatic response in Jaq. He immediately jumped to the side of the doorframe across from Atton and snapped to attention. A procession of a dozen Republic officers filed into the room, many of whom Jaq recognized as the top brass in the fleet. Saul Karath was there, looking dour as always, along with Mon Halon, Arvel Fisk, and General Derred. As he walked past, Karath caught sight of Jaq, and Jaq could see the admiral's mood physically change from melancholy to down-right angry.

"Lieutenant, you are out of uniform," snapped the admiral. He marched over and stood well inside Jaq's comfort zone. "And in stolen clothes, to boot. Please enlighten me, Lieutenant, were you simply too stupid to figure out which set of clothes were yours when you jumped out of her bed this morning, or have you just stopped caring about the rules and regulation that used to keep this fleet functioning?"

Jaq smartly kept his mouth shut. The admiral was just using him to vent his own frustrations, and anything he might say to Karath would merely make things worse for him.

Karath leaned forward, getting right in Jaq's face. "Well, Lieutenant?"

"Come now, Admiral," came a new but familiar voice, "there's no need for such accusations." Revan strolled into the room wearing the dark armor that had come to define him, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn't wearing the mask. Jaq had almost forgotten what Revan's face looked like. His skin had grown pale from lack of exposure, and the black rings around his eyes gave off a feeling of wildness that almost made him look more intimidating now than when he wore his mask.

Karath immediately backed away from Jaq; his power and authority over the occupants in the room all but melted away now that Revan had arrived. "Yes, Lord Revan," replied Karath, bowing at the waist. "Of course."

Revan turned and laid his gloved hand on Jaq's shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes. Up close, Jaq could still clearly see the cold, calculating Revan was still in there, under a new layer of guile. "Times have changed, and Jaq has simply adapted to them." There was a slight pull at the side of Revan's lips that almost escaped Jaq's notice. It was Revan's tell, or as close to a tell as a Jedi of Revan's caliber could have. He knew something, something that went beyond this room. What that something was, however, Jaq could only guess at. Revan paused to turn back to the other officers standing around him. "As we all must."

With a grand gesture, Revan wordlessly led the officers over to the large conference and bade them to sit, leaving Atton and Jaq to stand at attention by the door.

"Man, you really lucked out there," whispered Atton. "Karath's had a force pike up his ass since the Mandies surrendered. My guess is you just escaped a couple months of tongue-cleaning every refresher in the fleet."

Recoiling slightly at the thought of such a punishment, Jaq watched Revan and the officers take their seats at the table with Revan, of course, sitting at the head. "What's his problem?" he whispered to Atton, referring to Karath.

Atton shrugged. "Don't know, man. Something about declining morale causing disorder within the fleet. Personally, I think he's still angry the _Swiftsure_ couldn't be saved."

Jaq cracked a small grin. The _Swiftsure_ had taken part in the final battle, and had become a favored target for Mandalorian bomber squadrons. She survived the battle mostly intact, but her reactor core was critically damaged by a suicidal Basilisk rider. After twelve days of futile repairs, the mighty ship's orbit decayed past the point of recovery and fell to her doom. The _Swiftsure_ was the last casualty of Malachor V.

"How the mighty have fallen," said Jaq. "I guess that means the fleet needs a new flagship."

"You mean you haven't heard?" asked Atton with his own grin. "It's been made official; our new flagship is the _Drakken_."

"Revan's ship?"

Atton nodded. "Yep. It's kinda funny if you think about it. The Mandalorians lost the war and their leader; the Republic lost over half their fleet; Saul Karath lost his pride and joy, the _Swiftsure_." Atton gestured towards Revan. "On the other hand, his plans broke the Mandalorian war machine, he killed Mandalore, and now his ship commands the fleet." Atton furrowed his brows. "The only one who actually won anything at Malachor V was _him_."

Jaq scoffed. "Well after the way Karath and Halon handled Serrocco, Revan's the only person I trust to get the job done. He's the reason why we're still alive right now. Hell, he's the only reason we got off Dxun."

Atton shivered at the mentioning of the jungle moon. "Don't remind me. I'd like to put that hellhole behind me."

"You're not the only one." The action at the table was getting exciting, Jaq realized, judging by the more sweeping gestures being made. More than ever, Jaq wished he could hear what was being said. Then, he got his wish.

"This is insane!" exclaimed General Derred, jumping from his chair.

Karath quickly followed suit. "Sit_ down_, Derred!" he snapped, banging his angry fist on the table, "you're making a fool of yourself!"

"No! I will not be party to treason, Saul!" countered Derred, shooting a finger at Karath. "I did not fight a war to save the Republic only to now turn my back on her!"

"Amazing how so much has changed except for your idealistic and naïve galactic view."

Derred looked ready to throttle Karath on the spot. "How dare you-"

"Calmness gentlemen, please," said Revan, "this is not a time for division. Rather we should address Derred's sentiments." Revan's words were quick in defusing the tension at the table. Both officers wordlessly retook their seats. "His ideology is sincere; it is his premise that is wrong."

"My premise, Master Revan?" asked Derred.

"Yes," replied Revan. He squared his shoulders, interlocked his fingers, and looked Derred straight in the eye. "You feel that we here are going to betray the Republic. In truth, the Republic has betrayed us, and we are merely responding to it."

Derred looked understandably confused. "I beg your pardon, Master Revan, but how have we been betrayed?"

Revan picked up the datapad before him and started scanning through its contents. "Eight days ago, Admiral Karath received an encoded transmission from the Supreme Chancellor. I am uploading it to you all now."

The gathered officers save for Karath, who was still glaring at Derred, all picked up their datapads and read the text that appeared on the screen.

"How can they do this?" asked the younger captain on Derred's left. "How can the Supreme Chancellor expect us to carry out this order?" The order the captain was referring to stated that Revan, Malak, and all surviving Jedi in the Republic fleet were to be immediately returned to Coruscant and remanded into custody of the Jedi Council. The captain looked up at Revan. "It defies all logic."

"Not all logic," replied Revan. "The war is over, and now the Jedi Council feels it can flex its muscles again. They believe that since there is no longer any fighting, there is no reason for the Revanchist Movement to continue. They believe they can order us home and condemn us as renegades without stirring a controversy. But in their arrogance, they have overlooked a key detail." Revan looked over to Karath. "Saul, this transmission was addressed to you. Can you going to carry out these orders?"

Karath did not miss a beat. "No, Master Revan, I cannot," he said. "I would rather face a public court-martial."

"A likely consequence for defying the orders of the Supreme Chancellor," said Revan.

"So what was all that rot about the 'rules and regulations that used to keep this fleet functional' from earlier, Saul?" asked Derred reclining in his chair and crossing his arms.

"The key phrase in that sentence was 'keep this fleet functional,' Aramo," replied Karath. "As much as it pains me to admit it, without Revan and his followers, we would never have succeeded. Without them, there would not even be a fleet. So, yes, this is one order I will happily refuse."

"General," said Revan, "you know what will happen to any Jedi who returns to Coruscant. The Council is desperate to reassert its authority over the Republic, and this," Revan let the datapad drop from his fingers and clatter onto the table, "is proof of it. That they can make the Supreme Chancellor turn his back on the Republic's very heroes underscores the threat they pose."

"Are you asking us to engage in a war with the Jedi?" asked Derred, sitting back up and placing his clasped hands on the table.

Revan leaned in as well. "I am asking if you intend to carry out the orders you have just read, or if you intend to risk being court-marshaled for defying a direct order."

Derred fell silent. The issue for him was already decided, all that remained was to muster up enough courage to say it aloud. He had always been the good solider throughout his career. He had always known the right and proper thing to do, and his instincts had never steered him wrong before. For a moment, he wondered what Helena, his late wife, would say if she were here. She was never without a prescient opinion. "No, Master Revan," he said finally, "I cannot follow these orders. My conscience will not permit it."

Revan smiled and looked around the table. "Can anyone here at this table follow these orders?" he asked, holding up the datapad. He was met with a chorus of no's and shaking heads. Then he reclined his head to look back at Jaq and Atton. "You two. You are watching your superior officers commit treason against the Republic. Will you stand for it? Will you order for their arrests?"

Jaq and Atton both looked at each other, both sure of themselves but curious of the other. Then both of them cracked a grin, turned back at Revan and in unison declared, "Sir, no sir!"

Revan smiled again; "Good. Very good. In forty-eight hours, I will relay new orders to the fleet. Return to your ships, inform your crew, and if any of them wish to return to the Republic, provide them with appropriate transportation. I will not force this decision on anyone, but after forty-eight hours, we must stand in solidarity."

"Master Revan, if I may?" asked Karath. Revan nodded at him to continue. "I would like to return to Coruscant. I know there are others in the Republic military who share our sympathies and would join us if given the opportunity. I could…recruit them…while you are away."

"Very well, Admiral," replied Revan. "But remember, no blackmail. I am looking for the dedicated, not the coerced." Saul nodded in understanding. "Then, gentlemen," continued Revan, rising from his chair, "you are dismissed." The other officers stood up and saluted before filing out of the room.

When the doors to the conference room closed, the entire room began to bend and distort. Then, like an image on disturbed water, the very room itself faded away leaving Jaq alone in the tomb chamber. Well, not alone; Revan was still there, standing in the center of the room with his hands behind his back as if he and Jaq had been the only real beings in that vision. So was Revan real, or was this just another vision as well? "You remember that day, don't you?" he asked Jaq. "The day we all swore to continue our mission to keep the galaxy strong?"

"I do," replied Jaq. Movement to his right caught his eye; Atton was still there, taking a step towards him.

"How could he forget?" Atton asked with a grin. "You changed his destiny, our destinies, that day." Atton came up next to Jaq and casually threw his arm over his shoulders, trapping him in a light grip. "And by the look of him, I'd say going down another new path."

Revan moved in front of Jaq and studied him intently. "Indeed," he said. "Jaq has sworn fealty to another. Interesting."

"Well, I'm not that surprised," said Atton. "Jaq's always needed someone to give him guidance. First his father, then me, then you, and now the new guy. He just keeps bouncing from one mentor to the next."

"Unfortunately, he does not stay with his mentors long enough to learn the right lessons."

Suddenly Jaq did not like how this situation was unfolding. They were talking about him as if he was not in the room, and worse, they seemed to be passing judgment on him. As if they had that right. "Hey," Jaq finally declared, "whatever I did in my past I did because it was the right thing for me to do. The same goes for everything I will do, too." That seemed to get their attention.

"Really?" asked Revan, taking a step forward. "So knowing what you do now, would you do it all again? You don't have any regrets?"

Jaq thought cautiously for a minute. "No," he finally answered, "I guess I don't."

"I told you," Atton said to Revan.

"So you did," said Revan, sounding detached.

Jaq tensed slightly at their responses; that wasn't the reactions he was expecting. He subtly tried to pull away from Atton, but the hand on his shoulder tightened its grip. The realization hit him just as Revan started speaking again.

"Then you also don't regret betraying me."

The attack came so fast, Jaq didn't even have time to register the color of the lightsaber coming at him before it slammed into his chest. Fire burned within him, but the actual pain was slow to come, delayed by the sudden shock of being impaled. Jaq felt his body go numb, his vision started to blur, but he could clearly make out the hum of the lightsaber in his ears. It took forever for the next few seconds to pass, but finally he heard the saber deactivate, and the hand on his shoulder disappeared. In excruciatingly slow motion, he dropped to his knees, clutching his wound.

Jaq watched Revan's boots move away and a new set take their place. He looked up to find Atton looking down at him with a scowl on his face and his rifle aimed point-blank at Jaq's forehead.

"Or me," said Atton.

At this close range, Jaq knew death would come instantly. The searing bolt would melt through skin, bone, and brain matter in a picosecond. Despair swept over Jaq. He wasn't supposed to die like this: alone...in a cave…by Atton. Then his mind flashed back to what Kreia had told him.

"_This is a Sith tomb. It will not forgive any mistakes."_

With a small laugh, he understood what she had really meant. Jaq always found it funny how often enlightenment preceded death. He had seen it many, many times in his life, and now it was his turn.

"I'm sorry, Atton," he said quietly.

"I know," Atton replied.

And pulled the trigger.

to be continued...

End Note: A scene I ultimately cut out because it slowed down the chapter to almost a crawl was one where Jaq had pulled out his old jacket and mused about his old friend Atton. It had some good character moments, but I also thought that since I hadn't mentioned Atton much, or at all, to bring him up now at the beginning of the chapter would give away his reveal and spoil some of the fun I intend to have.

Questions, comments, or concerns? Leave a review, and I'll answer you.

Seeing as how this was submitted on Nov 24, 2011, I'd like to say Happy Thanksgiving to everyone and enjoy the holidays to come!


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